To Make a Difference
by Alcanax
Summary: Mass relay, FTL, slip-space. They bring people closer, but also seem to make the galaxy bigger. Reapers, they come from dark space. But what other dangers lurk between the stars? Pirates, Collectors or worse. Shepard and the Normandy crew will soon find out. Will Fate be merciful? Or will they have to bend it? Set after Halo3, and during ME2.
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

On board the 'Forward unto Dawn':

"Wake up, Spartan!"

In the darkness of a wreak, floating silently and aimlessly in space, a faint blue light appeared over a pedestal. The light flashed briefly and seemed to take the shape of a sphere, hovering over the metal and glass. It pulsed three times, at each pulse, the sphere became brighter and its core took a different shade, slightly darker, electric. Moments later, the emergency lights flickered back to life. On cue, the sphere dissolved, disappeared and revealed the hologram of a woman, hugging her legs. With her forehead pressed against her knees, she was curled up into a tight ball. However her "revelation" seemed to have woken her up. She stretched, slowly standing, spreading her arms along her sides, her head still tilted downward. No clothes could have been seen on the representation of her body, but she didn't possess the particular feature of a naked woman body. Instead her skin was covered by light and dark blue symmetrical patterns. And symbols, only she understood, were coursing down her curves.

She slowly descended, landing like a feather on the holo-tank. Only then, she lifted her head. The woman had shoulder long hair, shorter on the back, falling symmetrically on the sides of her face. By her look, she wasn't older than 25 and her blue face with slightly darker lips showed only deep peacefulness. Her eyelids slowly rose, and the emergency lights were suddenly turned off, letting her bright, electric blue eyes shine in the darkness.

Faint, dull vibrations ran through the floors and walls, completely silent, but the sensors she had access to allowed her to feel them. In front of her, only lit by the little light her own hologram provided she saw a large tank. And through the Plexiglas, the cry-gel being sucked out, an imposing green armor. A small smile graced the woman's lips as she gazed into the golden visor of the helmet.

A screen suddenly appeared next to her, interrupting her observation and any thoughts the might have. She turned around and let her eyes travel across the data of the remaining available sensors. Actually she didn't need to do this, look at the numbers and shuffle through them. But her hologram showed her doing this anyway. A habit she was born with and that persisted and strengthened over the years. All her observations, computations and analyses were done internally and a lot faster than any human could follow. At the end, the conclusion was evident. The first scans her sub-routine performed were right, and she needed someone to wake up as soon as possible. She acknowledged the warning and the red PROXIMITY ALERT stopped blinking.

"Take your time... we're in no hurry...", she said softly, turning back to the cryo-tank.

In normal conditions, the tank would have been purged of the cryo-gel, progressively filled with air instead, the occupant then freed and look after by competent personnel as he was recovering from his sleep and expectorating the bronchial surfactant. Unfortunately, 'normal condition' included artificial gravity and atmosphere, both off-line for now. And the only living individual that could be considered as 'competent personnel' was currently in that very cryo-tank. So instead of the normal procedure, non-reactive gas was pushed into the tank from one end, forcing the gel out at the other end. Then the little bit of gas was released into the emptiness of space. It wasn't perfect of course, but that would do for now.

Eventually the green armor took life. It shifted, the helmet turned left then right before tilting forward, facing the hologram. With a mighty push, it shoved the hatch open, releasing the remaining gas and gel in the chamber. It kept its helmet down, facing the hologram, letting the image of the woman reflect into the golden visor. The armor pushed itself with its elbow and floated out of the cryo-tank, down toward the holotank.

"Good morning, Chief. Did you miss me?", the woman spoke directly into the armor's helmet, a small smile on her lips.

The armor, inhabited by the one now named Chief grabbed the side of the holotank and stopped his descend as his helmet was on the same level as the hologram.

"Cortana.", the deep voice of the Chief answered.

The hologram nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. Cortana knew not to expect much more than an acknowledgement, but it was enough for her. While Chief was balancing himself to land on the floor and magnetizing his boots, she ran several scans. His voice already told her all she wanted to know about his mental state and mood. His suit gave her the informations she needed about his vitals. During her analyses, her hologram stayed still, idly switching her weight from one leg to the other. She knew he didn't need to see her feigning to inspect him.

"Your vitals are normal, no sign of freezer burns. You look alright.", she informed Chief, looking up at him through his visor.

He nodded in response and kept his head tilted forward toward the small hologram. A few moments later, he lifted his head and started looking around the chamber.

"How long did I sleep?" Chief asked, and Cortana picked up a hint of concern in his voice and maybe apprehension too?

"Oh, it felt like an eternity..." Cortana teased and, this time, made a screen appear next to her hologram and turned her head to it. "Seven hours, twenty-five minutes... a handful of seconds.", she eventually answers before offhandedly dismissing the screen and turning back to the Chief, a playful smile on her lips.

He slowly turned his head and looked down at her. His reaction made her smile widen. She knew he expected her to continue, to answer the question he didn't feel the need to ask. She switched position, pressing her hands together behind her back, her smile still present and waited. They looked at each other for a long moment, both of them expecting the other to speak first. However even if Chief's patience could rival a rock's, he wasn't someone to stay idle when there was anything else he can do. So as Cortana expected, he was the first to give in. Just as he inhaled to speak, she snapped her finger and made the red PROXIMITY ALERT re-appear next to her.

"We've got company!", she announced, almost joyfully.

Chief didn't move, his visor still facing Cortana.

"Rescue or hostiles?", he asked her, pragmatic.

"I don't know...", she answered simply.

Even if Chief didn't give any audible or visible reaction, Cortana still 'felt' him twitch. A pang of pride washed over her, first because she still managed to surprise him, but also because she had made him used to her knowing the answer to every of his questions.

"The signal doesn't match anything we've encountered before."

Chief nodded at her, and, without missing a beat, leant against the holotank to push himself away, floating toward the weapon's rack.

On board 'The Purgatory

Commander Shepard sighed as she saw two Blue Sun's mercenaries being smashed mercilessly against the Plexiglas and steel. They both fell onto the floor, unresponsive. Her attention wasn't on them, but rather on the woman currently having a fit of rage, seemingly caused by the sight of the Normandy. For the first time, Shepard was able to get a good look at her, and truly reconsidered on including that psychotic looking biotic into the team. Her skimpy clothing and bald head made her numerous tattoos, nearly completely covering her, clearly visible. As visible as her lack of anger management. An anger do deep and virulent that the ex-convict was completely blind to her surrounding : Shepard, her team-mates, and also the Blue Sun's Batarian running toward her, his sub machine-gun already drawn.

Shepard quickly stowed away her rifle in her back, and took her heavy pistol, a M-6 Carniflex. A faint blue aura surrounded her as she drew and pulled forth her own biotics. In a flash, she dashed forward, leaving a blue trail behind her and crashed against the last mercenary shoving her armored shoulder into his chestplate. The strength behind her charge was enough to instantly overload his shield and forcefully push the mercenary back a few meters. Lifting her weapon, Shepard took aim and squeezed the trigger twice before the batarian even fell on the floor, not to get up ever again.

"What the hell do you want?", the convict snapped angrily behind Shepard.

She turned around slowly and looked upon the convict. The woman before her kept looking back and forth between Shepard on her left and her teammates on her right, anger still clearly out-weighting worry on her features. Silently, Shepard looked upon her.

"I'm commander Thereza Shepard. And you're Jack, right?", she asked for good measures, ignoring her outburst.

"That's my name, but I don't give a shit about yours! Now what the hell do you want?" Jack growled between her teeth, taking a careful step back, and keeping her hands ready to strike with her biotics anyone coming too close.

Shepard turned her head and motioned to her team-mates to stand down. Garrus lowered his rifle but kept it at the ready while assuming a relaxed posture. Grunt simply lifted his shotgun and held it over his shoulder, already looking around and loosing interest about the current matters.

"Thank you would be nice. Something like; 'Thank you for saving my ass', 'Thank you for getting me out of the freezer', or 'Thank you for giving me a chance to get out of this burning hell hole alive.", Shepard retorted, pointing to the Normandy with her thumb.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. You're Cerberus!", she spat back, her head still turning left and right, pacing restlessly. She looked like a dangerous chemical solution, just waiting, almost expecting for a spark to make her explode.

"I'm not Cerberus, nor am I working for them. We just have a massive problem coming our way, and they happen to be the only ones willing to do something about it.", Shepard retorted, pressing her pistol against her hips and letting it stick and fold itself there.

"Same difference!", Jack growled, this time facing Shepard and glaring at her. She pointed an accusatory finger toward the Normandy and continued. "You show up in a Cerberus frigate to take me away somewhere. You think I'm stupid?"

Shepard crooked an eyebrow and made sure Jack was able to see it through the thin visor of her helmet. Jack seemed to be rather focused on Cerberus and hold quite a grudge against them.

"This station is going down in flames, and I don't see anything resembling a space suit on you. I have the only way out and I'm offering to take you with me. In your place I wouldn't care even if it was in a Covenant destroyer. And yet, you're arguing."

Jack took a few deep breaths and seemed to settle down slowly, thinking. Behind her, Garrus was about to say something but one glance from Shepard silenced him and he stayed out of the conversation. He fancied interjecting, throwing in his own two cents, but also realized quickly when his thoughts weren't needed and simply 'sat back' and enjoyed the show. As for Grunt, well, at that stage, he didn't seem to care anymore.

"Look", Jack eventually spoke. "You want me to come with you, make it worth my while."

Shepard took a few steps toward her. Jack faced her, turning her back to the two aliens and crossed her arms. Thereza saw the gesture, her position and understood she was pushing Jack on the defensive by getting closer to her that way. She took one more step and stopped.

"Speak."

"I bet your ship's got a lots of Cerberus databases. I want to look at those files. See what Cerberus got on me."

Shepard stayed still and internally nodded. Indeed Jack has something against Cerberus and most likely some passive too, not the easy and nice one. The commander knew she would have to keep an eye on her and make sure none of the crew came too close. And also keep Miranda, who was clearly pro-Cerberus to the core, as far from Jack as possible.

 _"She could prove to be more problems than she's worth..."_ Shepard idly thought before answering the convict's request.

"Here's what you got ; I'm saving your life for the third time today by letting you step into MY ship. Then you choose, either you come on my team and I make sure the human authorities won't bother you anymore for your past crimes once we're done. Or you don't, and we drop you at our next stop. I don't care."

"You want me on your team, let me go through those databases.", Jack hammered, metaphorically digging her heels.

"That was my last offer. I make the rules, not you, not anyone else. You better get that into your thick head and fall in line. You want to see those files? Alright, prove me you're worth the trouble. You don't agree? That's fine too. The escape pods are that way, good luck getting there before the flames.", Shepard stated coldly staring directly into Jack's eyes.

The commander knew better than to completely corner someone, be it in a firefight, or argument. They would fight teeth and nails in this position. That's why she offered Jack three choices ; Stay here and die, use the Normandy as a lifeboat and go away at their next stop, or be part of the team and proving her worth to get access to what she wanted. Of course no sane person would ever pick the first choice. But if the convict kept refusing to conform to the commander rules, Shepard truly considered leaving her there. She needed skilled people in her team if she expected to stop the menace on the human colonies, but didn't want unreliable teammates. As for the database, Shepard still didn't trust Cerberus completely, and with good reasons. But right now, she needed them, Humanity needed them. The Illusive Man's attitude irked her, not his competences nor his objectives. Hence, she wasn't about to give potentially sensitive informations to the first one who came asking, stomping her foot.

"Alright, I'm in, but you better be straight with me, Shepard!", Jack conceded eventually, growling between her teeth. She clearly wasn't happy about the situation, but she knew she had to play along to get the informations she was longing for.

"That's what I wanted to hear. Garrus, Grunt, we're moving out!", Shepard ordered before turning around and stepping toward the hatch's door to the Normandy.

Garrus followed suit, and Shepard knew he would stay behind Jack to keep an eye on her, just in case. His new nickname 'Archangel' truly matched him. Grunt also followed on the side, silently. Both of them had their weapon still out and at the ready, more out of habit than real need. The Commander stopped in front of the door and hit the switch. However instead of blinking green, hissing and sliding open, the hologram blinked red, and nothing else happened. She pressed it again but the door stayed stubbornly still. Sighing she pulled out her omnitool and switched the coms on her headset to communicate with the Normandy's crew.

"Joker, this is Shepard, come in." Thereza called and waited.

Joker's answer quickly came : "What is it, commander?", he sounded worried which was easily understandable. His precious Normandy was still docked to a burning station and Shepard just used her 'a bit too serious' tone which didn't happen often with him.

"Why is the hatch locked?", Shepard asked impatiently.

She didn't like being locked out of her own ship, and even more not being warned about it beforehand. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Grunt starting to walk away, kicking the crate and barrels out of his way to the end of the hallway. She rolled her eyes, wondering if the krogan was aware that some of this containers held unstable substances. But for now she has other more important things to worry about than the krogan well-being or what caught his attention. She trusted his hide and his shotgun.

"Someone tried to pry the door open, Commander.", stated the feminine and artificial voice of EDI, answering Shepard question. "I saw fit to lock the hatch completely before that someone hacked the lock, or tried to."

"Heh... Complaining about the ship's markings but still eager to get on it, aren't you?", Garrus teased, turning to Jack. Of course he heard everything. Like Shepard, the Turian had the habit and capacity to be listen on several channels at once.

"The hell are you talking about?", Jack snapped in answer. Contrary to Shepard and her teammates, she didn't have access to the the communications.

Next to them, Thereza ignored them completely, her mind running fast as her eyes surveyed the door. Her head unmoving, and her body motionless too, only her blue eyes darted left and right, sharply behind the visor of her helmet. And in her heads, the cogs were spinning as fast as they could. There, her eyes suddenly stopped on a dent. The paint was gone and the metal was visibly albeit slightly bent. It stuck out like a lump of charcoal on a snow field, but still invisible for anyone not looking for it. The kinetic barriers weren't online, however the plating was still tough and durable and it wouldn't normally be possible to mark it in that way. Yet, Shepard had the proof right there, someone indeed tried to pry the door open with what should look like a crowbar. It wasn't Jack, she was sure of it as physical strength clearly wasn't her specialty, she would have tried ripping the door open with her biotics instead. It wasn't the Blue Suns either, they knew better. Hacking or in desperate measure, explosives would have been far more effective than a crude metal bar.

"I shall unlock the door for you, Commander." EDI continued after giving Shepard a few instants for her thoughts and quick investigations.

Thereza's eyes widened suddenly as everything clicked into her mind. Her body, still and relaxed until now, sprang into action. In a swift movement, her hand shot toward her hips to grab her Carniflex and she whirled around.

* * *

There it is!

I hope you enjoyed it! I really like both universes and an idea of story mixing them has been in my head for quite a while and here's the first chapter.

I'd like to thank my friend who was of great help while beta-reading and correcting this chapter.

Don't hesitate to leave a review if you want.

See you soon (hopefully) for the second chapter.


	2. First Contact

Hello everyone!

First of all, a big 'thank you all' reader, reviewer, follower and favoriters.

There will be an AN at the end with some informations about certain points of this story and how it'll continue.

Answers to the reviews;

 **Apokal** : Thank you! My beta and I try to keep the text free of errors, but we know that removing all of them is really hard. We'll do our best for the next chapters.

 **nestetris** : Thank you! I hope so too! I will try to keep the Chief and Cortana as they are in the three first books but also games. And I'll also take into account what happened at the end of the third game and how it'll affect them.

 **Mandalorian Revanite** : Thank you! In a way you're right both time. Actually Shepard will be as I played the game the first time meaning; mostly renegade with some hints of paragon and neutral depending on the situations (let's say 3/4 renegade). It pained me a little in the first and second game that we had to choose to be either completely renegade or completely paragon to unlock all the conversations, ends, etc...

 **56006** : Thank you! Well, you'll soon discover who did dent the ship. I don't want to spoil you, do I ?

Once again, I'd like to thank my beta-reader who does a wonderful job!

Now, here's the second (well, technically it's the first chapter as what came before was the 'prologue', but fanfictiondotnet still registers it as 'second') chapter.

Read and enjoy!

* * *

 **First** **Contact**

On the Purgatory:

Shepard spun around as fast as she could. Her weapon, her faithful M6-Carniflex, was ready in her firm hand. By the time her body was half turned, her pistol nearly raised, she heard a loud, pain filled groan coming from Garrus. She moved her feet not to loose balance, re-positioned them at the ready for a shooting stand as her head turned to her squad-mate. But then, all she was able to see there, was the small black dot, the cannon of another Carniflex, aimed directly at her left eye. Instinctively, her head jerked to the right and two shots were fired instantly. One passed just next to Thereza's ear, close enough to drain a portion of her shield, and the other hit Garrus' armored shoulder, ricocheting as the Turian's shield was already completely offline.

There, standing behind Garrus, -who was obviously in pain, one of his hand pressed against his back, his rifle having slipped from his grip- a tall shadow. Her quick movement had thrown her aim slightly off, but by the time she corrected it, and started squeezing the trigger, a third shot rang. With a loud static sound and a blue shimmer, her shield failed completely, drowning the sound of her own shot, and preventing her to confirm the hit. At the moment of the shot, she felt and heard the dry impact as the slug grazed the side of her helmet. Her aim wasn't worse than the shadow's though, but the shadow was clearly faster and despite the Carniflex's strong recoil, the weapon nearly didn't move in its hand. The fifth shot produced a loud cracking sound and burning pain hit the left side of Shepard's face as blood splattered her visor. Garrus' rifle eventually hit the floor with a 'clang'. Blood and pain blinded her for an instant, making her third shot way off target.

The shadow didn't shoot a fourth time to ensure Shepard was down. Instead, it brought Garrus to the ground, by pulling him by the back of his collar and making the back of his head hit the floor first and hard. Thereza lifted her gun once again, even if her vision was still blurred by the pain, and aimed at the now completely exposed shadow's chest. A grin took place on her lips as she pressed the trigger and felt the Carniflex kick back.

Her target was saved by a hair breadth, at the last moment, when the blueish, half translucent wave of a biotic throw brutally kicked it out of the way.

"Ha! Fly and die, asshole!" Jack victoriously shouter, her arms still shining blue with her biotics.

Her celebrations were cut short as a shot rang in the hallway. She was sent on her back, doubling over, screaming in pain. Her hands were pressed against her uncovered and unshielded stomach as blood leaked through her fingers.

Shepard cursed and spun, not sparing the convict a single glance or a thought yet. Warm thick liquid kept pouring into and over her left eye as she tried to follow the shadow with her right's. She had seen him twist in mid air, aim, and take out the convict with one shot. She too, took aim, with both hands this time. Pushing the searing pain away wasn't hard for her, but the gore on her visor and the glitching HUD made her task difficult. She pressed the trigger, three times, letting the Carniflex release three shots. It was less to actually hit anything than to buy her some time. The shadow landed on its feet, slid, and dove on the side to dodge Shepard's last shot. That's all the commander needed as she was now ready to charge it with her biotics. It didn't take a lot of aiming when the cannon was pressed against the target's chest. However, someone else got the same idea as her.

"I am Krogan!" Grunt shouted, charging forward.

The loud and heavy Krogan ran to the shadow, his shotgun at the ready and his bright overshield encasing him. The shadow kept still, holding his ground, and started unloading -or in the case of any eezo powered weapon, heating- its gun on the tank bred berserk. The Carniflex packed quite a punch, actually overloading the first, bright white shield after the fourth shot. However, the Krogan was fast, his normal shield held until he was on the shadow, ramming into it with his shoulder and the butt of his weapon.

Suddenly Thereza's right eye, the only she still had open, widened. Grunt had pushed the shadow back a few meters and she had been confident their opponent would end up squished between a steel wall and a Krogan. That's when she saw the massive alien being abruptly stopped.

The shadow let itself be pushed back until they reached the short stairs. There, it took footing on the steps and stopped Grunt dead in his track, shoving its own shoulder into his chest plate. He, like Shepard, was took by surprise by this turn of event and this short moment of inattention earned him several powerful punches in his guts, chest, and under his arm were his armor wasn't as thick. He loudly groaned in pain, taking a step back and hit back, aiming for the shadow's head. It wasn't fazed and, in a blur, dodged to the left, allowing the Krogan to hit nothing but air. Swiftly, it swiped at Grunt's left leg and grabbed the side of his collar, pulling him back and down, effectively bringing the Krogan down like it did to the Turian. At the precise moment Grunt's back hit the metal floor, the shadow delivered a devastating uppercut. Grunt's head violently jerked up and a loud sound resonated in the hallway as his massive body slammed on the ground, unmoving.

Thereza froze, as Grunt's was knocked down, and blinked once. The shadow stood, keeping its only weapon aimed at the alien's throat and lifted his head back toward the only member of Shepard's squat still standing, herself. She instantly switched tactics and grabbed her M-4 Shuriken, sub-machine gun. She pressed both trigger and released a barrage fire, holding her weapons firmly and her teeth clenched. The barrage seemed to work as she saw the shadow hastily stepping back toward the door to the rest of the station, returning fire.

Thereza kept firing, while stepping toward the downed Turian, thankful that none of the shot hit her as she couldn't reach any cover. Thankful but soon concerned too. The shadow's aim couldn't have become so bad and so quickly, yet all of its shots missed her, hitting the boxes far on her left. Realization downed on her a fraction of second before a violent explosion nearly knocked her down. She cursed under her breath and slammed her Carniflex on her hips. Gathering her biotics, she sent a wave to the general direction of the door, forcing the shadow to take cover. Taking advantage of this limited respite, she bent down, grabbing Garrus by the arm and lifted him back upon his feet. The Turian groaned in pain and Shepard had to hold him firmly as a second explosion rocked the hallway.

Taking an instant, she looked around, assessing the situation. The hatch to the Normandy was still closed, but now blocked by rapidly spreading fire. Garrus was up and picking his rifle. Grunt was still down but also resuming to move. Jack was down too, groaning and complaining in pain, trying to crawl away from the fires. And the shadow was nowhere in sight.

"Garrus, get Grunt!" Shepard sharply ordered, running to Jack.

The Turian nodded and walked to the Krogan, his steps still uneasy. A third canister detonated at the back of the hallway. Shepard gritted her teeth, grabbed the wounded biotic by one of her clothes' strap on her back and started dragging her away, following Garrus.

"Joker, do not open the hatch. I repeat, do not open the hatch." Shepard instructed loudly through her radio. "We have one unidentified, armed hostile on our side."

"Ow! Watch the stairs, dammit!" Jack loudly complained as Shepard pulled her up the set of steps.

"Co... ...at ...ander." EDI voice answered through the cracking and buzzing of the stating from the obviously damaged radio.

Eventually Shepard reached the door and dragged Jack through, into the relative safety of the other dark hallway. She slammed her armoured fist on the switch to close the door and seal the burning hallway, preventing fire and smoke from getting to them. Suddenly, a shot rang and sparks flew from the wall on her right. She spun and promptly opened fire too. But with the darkness in the end of the hallway and the state of her visor she was rather sure she didn't hit anything. She kept stepping back hastily, eventually reaching a corner. There, Garrus was crouched down, his shoulder against the wall, staying at cover. She turned, kept pulling the wounded woman for a couple of meters and laid her in the middle if the dimly lit hallway. She took a deep breath, they were finally safe, for now.

(***)

Thereza breathed in and out, looking around herself. They were in an hallway, not really wide, but nor narrow either. In front of her there was a corner and and a dozen of meters behind them, an intersection in 'T'. She saw Garrus the Turian slowly slide out of cover, his M-15 Vindicator ready. A loud gunshot rang and the Turian swore loudly, pulling back. The top of his rifle showed a new dent and his shields were shimmering.

"Dammit, he's good!", he groaned, using the loud speaker of his armor.

A loud grunt was heard as answer. Shepard turned around to the Krogan who was shaking his head to clear it from the blows, visibly fuming.

"Let's see if he's good at swallowing my shotgun!", his guttural voice threatened.

He assured his grip on his shotgun and with a purpose, stepped to the intersection.

"No, stand down." Shepard ordered planting herself in front of Grunt.

He huffed, almost indignant and kept advancing, trying to force his way through the commander. Without losing her composure, Thereza grabbed the Krogan by the front plate of his armor. She pulled, to make him stumble and loose balance then spinned and shoved back, pinning him to the wall. It wasn't with small efforts that she managed the feat of overpowering the Krogan, but her training and the brute's carelessness made it possible. Her body's augmentations, Cerberus' gift, weren't for nothing either.

"Stand. Down." She sharply repeated, keeping her eye in Grunt's opaque visor.

Right now, she needed quiet and thinking to find a suitable tactic allowing her squad to get back on the Normandy safe and sound. Grunt's bout and hurt pride was the exact opposite of that. And moreover, it was making them loose time.

Grunt groaned loudly and tried to shrug Shepard off. Each time, Thereza shook him, her grip firm. Eventually he didn't calm down but gathered enough mind to conclude it was better to follow Shepard commands and not antagonize her. She carefully let go, keeping her eye on him. Another gunshot was heard, followed by Garrus loud complain.

The Commander turned her head to the Turian.

"Return fire" She ordered.

Then she turned to the Krogan and pointed to the wounded biotic. Jack's complains and swearing were becoming weak and her skin pale.

"First aid." She told him as several bursts of fire was heard.

"I'm not sure I'm hitting anything, Shepard!" Garrus commented as he kept firing blindly in the hallway.

"The point is not to hit anything, but rather send a message.", Thereza answered, bringing out her omni-tool. "We're not taking this lying down!"

She patched herself to the Normandy through her omni-tool as her helmet's radio was obviously broken.

"Normandy, this is Shepard, come in.", she announced clearly, holding her wrist close to her helmet. She felt the tremor of some explosion in the distance.

"Shepard?", Joker answered sounding almost panicked this time. "I see fire and explosion a lot closer now! The hell is happening there?"

"It was a trap, we're not longer in that hallway. I want you to unlock the hatch...", Shepard began.

"Wha...?"

"You open it a bit, and vacuum the atmosphere in the airlock.", Shepard continued, interrupting Joker. "It'll put out the fire in the hallway and stop the chain reaction and explosions."

"Yes commander.", EDI answered.

"Then fill it back with breathable atmosphere and tell me when it's done. Shepard out." The commander ordered and finished.

Now that one of the problems was taken care of, Thereza could focus on the others. First she turned to Jack. The now ex-convict was still weak and nearly knocked out by the anaesthetic and loss of blood. Grunt was maybe a brute but field first aid was still within his reach of ability. She then turned to Garrus. He had a scrap of metal with dark fabric warped around it, sticking out of his back, just next to his spine. The fortune knife was covered with thick blue blood. But it wasn't flowing anymore. The medigel dispenser of the Turian's armor should have sutured the wound already, stopping the bleeding, but he'll still need real medical attention.

"Garrus, status?" Shepard asked, standing behind him.

He glanced back.

"Operational." He shortly answered, turning back to guard the hallway they had come from. "Not up for a marathon though..."

Shepard nodded. She heard the Turian's tone. Since their first mission together, she had known Garrus didn't completely agree with her behaviour during missions. Not her fighting capacities and prowess, as they both recognized each other's abilities. Rather her state of mind. It was also something that bothered the higher ups when she was still in the System Alliance. But paradoxically something that helped her becoming the first human Specter. Her results and how she got them; her ruthlessness. Whenever she was on mission, she focused on one thing; the mission's objectives and how to get them done. And she expected her teammates to do the same.

"Joker, warn Chakwas and tell her to have the med-bay ready. We have two wounded, one light, one serious, over." Shepard ordered through the radio of her omni-tool.

"Three..." Garrus corrected under his breath.

She paid him no mind and starting to think of a strategy to get her team out of this mess and into the ship.

"Alright. I don't know who it is or what is is and I don't care. We're not getting back on the Normandy before the hostile is down and cold. I'm sure he agrees with us." Shepard announced her squad before turning to Garrus.

"You are to provide support and cover fire. As soon as the threat is dealt with, you grab Jack and drag her to the Normandy, understood?", the commander ordered.

Garrus nodded and summarized. "Covering fire then drag the woman."

Jack, having regained some colors and strength, choose this moment to add her two cent.

"Yeah, and do that more gent..."

"Silence!" Shepard mercilessly cut and snap at her before turning to Grunt. "You and I will charge and engage the threat. You first, with your overshield. Don't run in the middle of the hallway, but on the side" She instructed, motioning with her hands. "Stay out of Garrus' line of fire. I don't need you to get shot in the back by a Turian. You'll also cover our advance with your grenades, understood?"

"Yeah, but I don't have any grenades left.", Grunt answered.

"What? Why?", Thereza demanded.

She always kept a figurative close eye on her squad's ammunition and she was sure that the Krogan had at least three grenades left.

"He took them.", he shortly answered, pointing in the general direction of their enemy, obviously and understandably discontent.

Shepard sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, pressing her fingertips just above her broken visor. That just made their problems a lot worse. And the pain from the left of her face wasn't helping as it was still very far from a dull throbbing. Each pulse of her heart was pouring fuel on a very slowly dying fire.

"The hallway could also be booby trapped with grenades now... great." Shepard concluded out loud for her teammates. Keeping her eyes closed, she turning to Garrus' direction. "Distance to target?"

There was a silence, the gunshot from a Carniflex and the Turian answered.

"Thirty, thirty-five meters. Fifteen to the door. There's several boxes and crates on the way but I didn't see anything else."

'Damn', Shepard thought as the distance was too great for her to safely leap through with her biotic charge.

Grunt chuckled. At first lightly but he got louder. Garrus glanced back at him briefly. Jack looked at him, half worried, half chuckling too. The commander opened her right eye and gazed at the laughing Krogan.

"He knows what he's doing. Four on one. He trapped us and got us precisely where he wanted. The guy's damn good!"

Thereza felt her lips twitch and a grin took place on her lips, hidden of course by her helmet.

"Garrus, give him your grenades.", she ordered, knowing the Turian had still two fragmentation grenades. "And Grunt, count your teeth, you may be short a dozen when we'll be back on the Normandy."

She took her own shotgun before explaining her plan.

"You charge first, attract fire and trigger any traps, I'll stay at a safe distance behind. As soon as I can, I'll charge through with my biotics and end up behind him. Pincer. He'll be trapped between you and me. We'll see how good he truly is!"

"Hell yeah!", the berserk exclaimed, taking place behind the Turian and grabbing the grenades that were handed to him.

Shepard stood behind him.

"Ready? At three."

"One"

"Two" Grunt flexed his legs, ready to leap forward.

"C-commander? Someone wants to talk to you." Joker voice came from the radio and Shepard already didn't like his tone.

"Who?" She sharply asked.

"I think you already know..."

Shepard sighed and Grunt groaned, impatient.

"Tell him I'm kinda busy right now!" She answered, dismissing the issue.

"I did, but he insists. That sounds quite urgent.", Joker argued, his tone showing that he understood the commander well enough to know how unhappy she was with this turn of event.

"Time before breathable atmosphere at the hatch?" Shepard asked flatly.

"Four minutes until standard atmosphere, commander." EDI dutifully answered.

"Garrus, you take command. I'm back in three. If there's no other better plan by then, we'll go with mine." Thereza commanded, her tone still flat but the brisk pace as she walked away betrayed her mood.

(***)

Fiddling with the base of her helm, Thereza unlocked then removed it carefully. The warm air of the station and residual smoke caressed her still fresh wound, making it burn even more. She winced between her clenched teeth, getting her mind and body used to the new shade of pain. Spinning her helmet in her hands, she started to assess the damages. She let out a small, low whistle. The whole visor was cracked and smeared with blood, the left side being of course the worse. And there was a hole, small but clearly visible as all the cracks seemed to originate from it. Looking at the back, Thereza saw another hole. She nodded, glad and lucky that the micro slug hadn't started to ricochet within the helmet. Eventually she glanced inside. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt like she had cheated death a second time. The left side was completely covered with gore. And, just above her eye's height, a straight line could be drawn between the two holes where the plating and electronics were open and busted.

Shepard set down the broken piece of equipment and a nearby crate and leant against the wall. If she hadn't yet felt the effects of blood loss, it was only thanks to the huge adrenaline rush she had had, and was still coursing through her vein. With her right hand, she ruffled her hair and combed them down. But only on her right side. The longest strand of her auburn hair barely went beyond her jawline, allowing her to comb them neatly behind her ears when she was wearing her helmet, which also held her hair on her forehead not to have them in her eyes.

Then she lightly probed her wound with her left hand. It was still bleeding a bit as the medigel injectors on her broken helmet weren't able to function perfectly. From a bit past the middle of her eyebrow to above her ear, her skin and scalp were torn, ripped an open. And all around this sore, bloody line, she felt other, smaller wounds and tiny shards of plastic, ceramic and metal embedded into her skin.

Thereza decided not to do anything else as there was a high probability that she would only end up making it worse. She simply, with her thumb, wiped away the blood around her left eye and on her eyelid. She closed both eyes and finally re-opened her left. She felt a light, slick resistance as the slowly coagulating blood tried to hold her lids closed. As her eye finally opened, her world was red. She blinked several times to wash the blood and give the walls back their dull natural colours. Then, looking around herself, she worked her eyes in its orbit and nodded to herself. Apart from a light soreness, the lack of added pain allowed her to conclude it was mostly unhurt.

After a few more moments, her omni-tool starting to blink and beep.

"Finally!" She whispered, impatient, lifting her wrist and starting to press buttons on the hologram. It was one of his mind's tricks. Making her wait like that, to assess the point that he was in charge. Shepard, even if his behaviour angered her, wasn't vain to the point of making him wait before answering. And then, a small hologram of a standing man, dressed formally in a suit and holding a cigarette, appeared on her wrist.

"Shepard.", The Illusive Man greeted her, usually detached, almost cold.

"What do you want?", Shepard asked right away, going straight to business.

The Illusive Man didn't flinch and answered right away.

"It came to my attention that...", his free hand typing on a screen she couldn't see. "... you were having unexpected troubles on the Purgatory."

Thereza sighed heavily

"Miranda being nosy and doing extra hours I see...", she concluded, knowing there was nothing she could do about it short of preventing the overzealous woman to get anywhere remotely close to a computer.

"Operative Lawson is fulfilling her role exactly as I need her to do.", countered the man, looking directly at Shepard and using a slight accusatory tone.

There was a small silence, the Illusive man having said what he wanted and the commander biting back some snappy, but for now useless, retorts.

"The threat will soon be dealt with.", Shepard announced with a tone of finality.

"Even if I have a rather good idea of the means you'll use, can you enlighten me?", the Illusive Man asked before slowly bringing his cigarette to his thin lips and taking a puff.

Thereza narrowed her eyes. She didn't like where all this were leading to, not at all.

"Any means until its termination.", she answered shortly but making sure her suspicion could be heard and seen in her voice and expression.

"So you plan to kill him? Don't you think he could be more useful alive?", the Illusive man questioned.

Shepard scoffed.

"You don't seriously want him... it... whatever it is, on the team?", she exclaimed angrily and unbelieving.

Thereza wasn't really sure of what the shadow was. It was tall at least as tall as Garrus even a bit taller, and had an humanoid shape. But she was sure that it almost killed her and that isn't something she would easily forget and forgive.

"No, Shepard, I don't 'want him on the team'.", the Illusive Man said with his most serious tone, using her own words. "He was unarmed, unarmoured, unequipped and alone. Yet he engaged and defeated a Turian, ex c-sec, Archangel of Omega, a Krogan, tank bred to be 'perfect', one of the most powerful human biotic and an N7 operative, first human Spectre." He pointed his index and middle finger, the half burnt cigarette held between the two last phalanges, at the commander. "YOU want him on your team, Shepard."

The man paused and there was a short silence.

"Contact me when you're back on the Normandy. Over and out.", the Illusive man finished, his hologram disappearing.

Shepard let her arm fall down along her side, leant her head against the cold wall and sighed. She couldn't deny that the Illusive Man might have a point there. But it wasn't the worse. The worse was; she already had thought about that before his call. In her hunt and fight against the Collectors, she wanted and would need as much assets as possible. Unfortunately, she perfectly knew that those kind of things never went as smoothly as planned. Also, wanting and having were two very different concepts.

"But it's worth a shot..." She whispered to herself, decided.

She grabbed her helmet and walked back to her team.

Garrus, faithful to his post, was still at the corner, his rifle firmly held in his three fingered hands, ready. Grunt was pacing back and forth, impatient and restless. And Jack had almost recovered her original colours and managed to crawl away of the pool of her own blood to lean against the wall in an half sitting position.

"Garrus, sit-rep?" Shepard demanded, standing behind him after stepping over Jack's legs.

"He's still surveying the hallway and didn't attempt to run for the door.", the Turian answered, turning his head to her a bit. "It's like he is waiting for us to make a move which gave me an idea..."

Thereza interrupted him by lifting her hand.

"Change of plan." She simply said, motioning him to move away to give her some room.

She handed him her helmet and pressed her back on the wall, at the corner. If their opponent was indeed waiting for their 'move' then she would oblige.

"Hey, you!", Shepard loudly called to the sure to have his attention. "What do you want?"

"Commander Shepard, un-armed, alone.", the answer immediately came, its word and meaning clear. His voice, definitely masculine, was strong and assured, his tone deep and commanding and despite the situation, it held no aggressiveness.

"Clear, precise, concise...", commented the commander idly.

Shepard was now sure of two things. First, what she had identified as 'the shadow', or 'hostile' was a male human or an alien who had learnt to speak English without accent. Second, it was about his competence. If he was trying to eliminate them, he might be one of the worse combatant Shepard knew. But if his intentions were to weaken and split Thereza's team, he was among the best.

"Why does he want you?", Jack questioned, her voice rough.

"How should I know? But I doubt it's to discuss his surrender." Shepard answered, taking her pistol and sub-machine gun, handing them both to Grunt.

"You don't seriously plan to go, do you?", Garrus said, disbelieving.

"Whoever it is, I want to have a discussion with him.", Thereza informed, not yet revealing her whole intent.

"He doesn't look like a Blue Sun's guard, and I really doubt it's a lost tourist. So my bets are on a prisoner who escaped and had good reasons to be here.", Garrus wisely argued. "I don't think we can trust him on anything."

"Hey!", protested Jack as the Turian's description also fitted her.

"Oh sorry." Garrus began, apologizing with a gentle voice before finishing with a lot harsher tone. "I don't trust THEM!"

"Why you little...", Jack snarled.

"I never asked you to trust anyone but me." Thereza countered, handing Garrus her rifle.

He let out a heavy sigh before taking it and placing it back on his own back.

"That I can do, Shepard.", he admitted with a nod and a supportive voice.

She eventually turned to Jack and gave her her shotgun. If worse came to worse, she would still be able to defend herself. And in her state, she would not be a threat to the Normandy or her crew.

"I'll keep his attention on me. As soon as possible, you get back on the ship and lock the hatch.", Shepard issued her orders.

"Aye, commander.", Garrus nodded.

"Unless I say so, you keep the Normandy on lock-down, understood?"

Garrus let out a disapproving sound, turning himself to the commander and looking down at her.

"What if the negotiations don't go as well as you want?"

Thereza glanced at him from the corner of her right eye, keeping her facial feature neutral. She reached down to her thigh and pulled out her combat knife, unsheathing it. She didn't need to check her knife's edge, as she made sure it was as sharp as it can be before the mission.

"I never said a thing about any negotiation."

At the same moment, somewhere else:

As his call with the commander ended, he sat down in his armchair. He flicked his cigarette to make the ashes fall in the tray, his eyes already travelling back and forth on the screen at his right. He was confident in Shepard's capabilities and he directed her in the right direction, so he was also sure she would make the right decision. But there was one think he wasn't sure of, one cog he wasn't yet able to put at its right place in the mechanism. Maybe Shepard would be able to execute that feat, but...

He pressed a button on his armrest before taking a puff from his cigarette. A light blinked, signalling that the connection was established.

"Wake one of the soldier and tell her to come here.", he ordered.

'Just in case.', he thought, placing his cigarette down before reaching for a glass filled with an amber liquid and two ice-cubes.

"Is it about the Purgatory's situation? If we wake anyone, shouldn't it be the doctor?", the voice coming from the intercom questioned.

"Not until we have solid proofs.", the Illusive man said with finality, cutting the connection.

He leant back. Things were getting interesting, but he would have to play his cards carefully.

On the Forward Unto Dawn:

The Master Chief stopped himself against the wall and immediately started to get himself equipped. Years of training, followed by years of ceaseless war made his muscles used to the manipulations, executing them almost without conscious effort.

"Distance?", he asked, grabbing and loading a rifle, a BR55HB SR, while thinking and already making plans to defend the ship from an eventual hostile boarding party.

"Hmm?... Oh!... 20km for the bigger ship, about half the size of the Dawn, staying still. And I have another signal, weaker, but closer. I'd say a small shuttle. It should be on us in 2 minutes.", Cortana, his digital companion, informed him, half her mind apparently busy elsewhere.

"Already?"

Even with his voice as deep and his tone as flat as usual, Cortana knew him for long enough to understand more than a single word. He wasn't reproachful as he was aware that Cortana, as playful as she might sometime be, wasn't someone to slack off. He wasn't worried either. Unexpected events only made him adapt. And quick reaction was the key. The Chief was already devising plans to stop hostiles that were already in the ship. Worrying took too much time. But what made Cortana react and turn her hologram to the Spartan was the slight tension in his body and the pause he took, looking at her, betraying his concern.

"Given the fact that I only have what's left of half a ship... Let's be glad I was able to detect anything before anyone came and knock on your aquarium.", Cortana explained lightly, trying to comfort the Chief.

He nodded sharply, not asking any further and turned back to the racks, taking a M6G pistol and several magazines for both of his weapons.

"Doors are open and the lights are blinking in the hangar, let's hope it'll bait them there.", Cortan informed, turning to him.

She stood still, almost at attention, her hands behind her back, silently announcing him that she was ready whenever he was. And patiently she waited, observing her Spartan. For good manners, he took two fragmentation grenades that he'll have to use with caution. Without gravity and atmosphere, shrapnels would behave greatly differently.

Once fully equipped, the Chief pushed himself back toward Cortana's holotank. He grabbed the metal firmly to stop himself, this time without magnetizing his boots. The woman's hologram disappeared, like sucked into the crystal that was projecting her. Without waiting longer, the Chief yanked her chip and inserted it in the slot at the back of his helmet. A cold, yet not unwelcomed sensation invaded the back of his cranium.

"Home sweet home!", Cortana voice rang into his ears, followed by a soft and pleased sigh as she digitally stretched, making herself comfortable.

When her hologram vanished, the cryobay was completely invaded by darkness. The Spartan wasn't even able to see his own hands. But soon, the lamps on each side of his helmet switched on, piercing the obscurity and several way-points appeared on his HUD.

"Lead the way Chief."

He shifted, positioned himself, aimed, and pushed himself forward, shooting toward a door that opened by itself to let him pass without problem.

"I ran some simulation. That's not the shortest path, but that's where you have the most chance of meeting our guests if they walked in without ringing."

The Chief simply nodded and dimmed his lights, keeping them at the lowest brightness. It wasn't perfect, but it would still lower his chance of being spotted too soon. He was flying through the hallways, from corner to corner. Losing almost no velocity, he was using his hands to turn, redirecting his momentum, and his legs to balance himself in the right position.

And he kept progressing like that, advancing almost as fast as if he was running, seeing the hallway only a few meters in front of him and the way-point that was coming closer. And the silence. Often in his carrier, the Chief had to hurry though the narrow hallways of ships and station, with or without gravity. But doing so when everything was so quiet and silent was something that had not happened often. It put him even more on his guard. And if it would have happened a few years ago, he would be nervous. With two of his most important enhanced senses almost useless, it wouldn't come as a surprise. But at that time, he had been alone in his armor. Mendez had made sure to teach the future Spartans two things. Never depend on equipment and material, it can fail and will not always be there. But he also taught them the importance of teamwork first and foremost. And now, the Chief wasn't alone in his armor anymore. Having Cortana's voice filling his silence, showing him where to go and telling him when there was debris or a door he would have to pry open on his way, even if her way-point was already blinking red, was enough to replace his eyes even if he would have been in complete darkness.

Ninety seconds after the Chief departed, Cortana updated him.

"I can no longer pinpoint the shuttle's position. They're too close for the sensors I have left. They're broadcasting quite a chatter though... Still processing to find a suitable translation. And I'm also currently trying to hack into their computer to see what we can learn. It might take some time though."

The chief never doubted Cortana's ability to pierce through any encrypted signal, with ease, given some time. And now, thanks to her, he knew that their 'guests', as his AI said, weren't human and most likely weren't covenants either. But it felt kind of wrong in his mind. The galaxy was wide of course, so wide it was hard to truly comprehend it. However, for him, until now, the Milky Way was filled with humans, covenants, forerunner technologies and emptiness, inhabited planets. And now there was a new non-identified alien race nearing this very ship, and he was about to go through the first contact.

"How long?", the Chief asked as he spread a sliding door open with his shoulder and one hand, holding his pistol at the ready in his free hand, keeping his mind pragmatic.

"A couple of seconds", Cortana assured, confident. "But I managed to hide ourselves until now. So I'd like to do it as delicately and discreetly as possible. At least one of us should try to remain subtle from time to time."

The Chief nodded and didn't answer anything more at his companion light tease, even if he felt a slight pull at the corner of his lips. He focused back on the task at hand. As it would be wiser, he decided he'd wait for Cortana to have hacked into the ship's computer and gather enough informations before engaging the potential boarding party.

Suddenly, as he was flying toward yet another corner, he heard something like a sad, shivering sigh, mixed with a faint, weak whimper. At exactly the same moment, his HUD and lights blinked, making him miss the corner, his fingers only grabbing nothing, a few millimeters from the metal. He brought both of his arms up in front of him and braced for the impact. The lights switched back on at the last moment, just giving him enough time to see the dark grey wall and two luminous and white circles, a bit more than a meter in front of his helmet. As his half a ton mass crashed into the wall. The shock ran through his body as his helmet and chest rammed the wall quite fast. But it wasn't enough to hurt him or damage the Mjolnir. He was able to lessen the shock, his shield only being half drained.

"Cortana?", the Chief asked, urgency in his tone.

"I-I'm fine, just a minor glitch"

The Spartan pushed himself from the wall and gracefully spun in mid-air to land on the other wall. He magnetized his boots briefly to assure his footing and them jumped.

"Talk to me." He told her as he resumed his flying.

Even if it was worded as an order, his voice wasn't as commanding as when he was leading other soldiers.

More than a month had passed since he left her, alone, on High Charity, at the Gravemind mercy. And yet, she was able to send a message, and keep her secrets hidden despite the flood's questioning. The Chief didn't really grasp what happened to her during her captivity, what methods and devices it used to force her answers out, and he doubted he would ever be able to understand. But he saw her state, when he rescued her, less than a day ago. In all the years they lived and fought together, Jon never saw her like that; scared, hurt, doubtful.

"Cortana?", this time his voice had a soft edge to it.

"Wait!", the AI suddenly exclaimed, her voice firm and sure again.

All the way-points vanished from the Chief HUD, except one, the one he was about to reach.

"We've got some bold ones...", another series of way-points appeared, leading in another direction. "I detected the opening of a door, there."

One of the way-points, the last one, blinked greed.

"They're already inside, but I still don't know how they got in.", Cortana explained, sounding both serious and disappointed.

Without loosing any time or speed, Master Chief followed the new path, silent. If it was anyone else than Cortana, he would have pressed for an answer, then made this one stay back as he or she would obviously not be ready to be operational. But Cortana, he knew she was different, in so many ways.

"They came in through a broken hatch.", a new way-point appeared, triangular and red. "If you want me to guess, their taxi is still waiting for them.", Cortana supplied, sounding glad she found the answer she was looking for.

The Chief nodded, signalling he heard and understood her. Taking this new information into account, he kept following the diamond shaped way-points as intercepting the boarding party was still his top priority. But he also surveyed his six o'clock in case someone else from the shuttle came and arrived on him from behind or followed him.

"Oh, and I'll leave the way-points and disconnect myself from your HUD and a few other of your armor's subsystems, just to be sure.", Cortana declared, sounding detached and pragmatical.

"No", was Chief instantaneous and firm answer.

Cortana stopped, letting her hacking and other subroutines work alone as she thought for a few cycles, thoughts far away from any translation and hacking.

"Thank you.", she eventually whispered, very lowly, not sure if she wanted her Spartan to hear her, but still hoping, deep inside her, that he would.

(***SceneBreak***)

"Cortana, what am I looking at?"

With the AI's help, the Spartan easily and rapidly found them. As soon as he had first seen them, he switched off his lights. And since then, he had been following them, quietly, and discreetly, hiding whenever and wherever it was possible, at each corner, crates, structures in the walls or ceiling. He also made sure to keep his distance, not knowing whether or not they had motion trackers.

"A pair of strange looking aliens I'd say..." Cortana wittily answered.

'Strange looking indeed...' The two aliens were armoured, their faces hidden behind black visors and wielding weapons the Master Chief didn't recognize. Two legs that were bending like feline or canine would with two, dull spike, a dozen centimetres long, also armoured, prolonging from their heels, like spurs. Large hips, below strangely thinner waist. Two arms ending with three fingered hands holding what look like rifles. On top of their shoulders, their armor formed high, thick collars circling their neck while keeping its movements free, most likely as a protection. Overall, they stood straight, and taller than a regular human, just a bit shorter than the Spartan.

"Can they be some Covenants?" The Chief asked, following their every movements.

"A sub-species of Elites?" Cortana said, finishing his thoughts. "It's not completely impossible. But three fingers, and the position of their heads on their neck, and this..."

Master Chief's radio was filled by statics for a brief moment, then he heard voices, kind of deep with a strange vibrating and flanging effect. And unsurprisingly, he couldn't understand a word of what was said.

"...doesn't match any Covenant dialect I know..."

The Spartan nodded, pushing himself and floating silently toward the corner they just disappeared around.

"Time estimation for the hacking?", he inquired.

"I'm already in, but it's the same problem, without suitable translation, I can't give you any relevant informations.", Cortana answered a few seconds later, sounding obviously displeased.

They both saw the left arm of one of the aliens being encased by a sort of bright orange hologram. A few taps and instants later, the door in front of them unlocked and opened, and they resumed their advance. The human soldier stayed hidden and observed them from the shadows. They still haven't noticed him, but he knew it wouldn't last forever, his chance of being discovered were increasing by the minute.

"For now, they're considered hostile.", the Chief declared throwing a glance at the map of the surrounding area he had asked Cortana earlier.

"Following Cole's protocol all informations concerning Earth has already been removed from the ship's databases.", Cortana flatly informed, still worried about her translations.

The Chief pressed his pistol against his hip and took his rifle from his back, mechanically checking if the first bullet was in the chamber. He then pressed his boots against the steel, effectively standing on a wall. Lifting his weapon, he took aim. Their armoured collar were high enough to protect the back of their head. But the Spartan took position near the ceiling to be sure his shots would hit their target, over their collar.

"Chief, are you sure it's the best course of action?", Cortana questioned, concerned

"They're aliens", the Chief argued. "We can't let them access information on our technology."

He kept his finger on the trigger and the back of the alien's head in his scope.

"Agreed.", Cortana conceded. "But what if they're not hostile? When the covenants attacked Earth and when we defeated the prophets, and the flood, we lost too much..."

She paused for a brief moment. Both of them were still mourning said losses. But now wasn't the time.

"Humanity isn't ready for another war.", she finished.

The Master Chief knew Cortana was right, but...

"If there's any chance these aliens are not as hostile toward humans as the covenants, it is our duty to take it.", Cortana continued her reasoning, giving the Chief her whole attention.

'You will be the protectors of Earth and her colonies.' Dr Halsey's words reasoned into his mind. The Spartans had been trained to fight any threat against humanity. And this time the Chief had the chance to prevent a potential threat of becoming an actual one.

"So try to play it nice... nicer.", Cortana advised, with a light tone.

The Master Chief nodded and lowered his rifle.

"Patch me on their radio." The Chief demanded, de-magnetizing his boots.

"Done!" His AI instantly answered, before digitally turning back to her translations.

The armoured soldier waited until the closest alien turned his back to him. Using his legs' enhanced strength, he propelled himself forward, toward it, as fast as he could. In mid-air, he pivoted, magnetized his boots, making them stick to the floor instantly. He let himself skid to an halt, just behind the alien. Before it could react, he grabbed the back of its collar holding it firmly and pointed his rifle on the other alien, switching his headlights on.

"Put your weapons down!", the Chief loudly and clearly ordered.

The second alien flipped around, hastily, and brought up his own rifle. No shot were fired, but both aliens immediately started speaking loudly, aggressively in the ration with their strange and incomprehensible language. The Chief stayed silent and pointed his gun down, confidently pressing the trigger. Even when holding his rifle with a single arm, he handled the recoil easily. In vacuum, the shots were silent, but the flame at the end of his cannon and the three dents in the ground made the warning shot and its intent clear as both alien stopped talking for an instant

"Put. Your weapons. Down." The Chief ordered again, this time gesturing his intend by pointing at the aliens' weapons then the ground.

"Oh, interesting... what's that?" Cortana muttered with the tone of a little girl on her birthday.

Her companion ignored her for now. She picked up the habit of talking to herself while working, but it never slowed her down. The Spartan saw the alien lower its rifle, hesitate an instant, then let go of it. The Chief nodded, keeping his eyes on the floating weapon, apparently these aliens understood him one way or the other to a certain extend.

He shook the other alien he was still holding.

"You too!" He ordered him sharply.

If it was any indication of its actual mood, the alien groaned and grumbled. If it was anywhere close to humans or brutes or elites, showing discontent. But nonetheless, it let go of its weapon too. The Chief pushed it forward, mercilessly toward the other one. Seeing a strange looking object on the small of its back, he snatched it with his free left hand. It looked like a long, flattened hexagonal tube made of dark grey metal with complex reliefs and sharp edges. Taking advantage of his golden visor, Master Chief kept his rifle aimed at the aliens and glanced down at the object in his hand. Mildly surprised, he saw some parts of the objects slide and move. A large cylindrical tube appeared at one end and a black rectangle with round edges on the other end. When he noticed and recognize a grip and a trigger appear under the block, the Spartan understood it was a weapon. He cast all his interrogations away for later and placed the alien weapon on his back, feeling it get trapped by the magnetic weapon holder.

The Chief then focused his whole attention on the aliens. They were standing, next to each other, showing their palms. He knew his options were now limited. He managed to relatively peacefully disarm the aliens, but without a proper way to communicate he wouldn't go much further. He was about to ask Cortana how much time she still needed when the edge of his HUD shimmered and glitched again, but this time without blinding him.

"No... it's impossible!" Cortana mumbled distressed, her voice nearly shaking.

Master Chief didn't answer her this time either, but for a completely other reason. In the corner of his HUD, on his motion tracker, he had seen a red dot, coming on his six o'clock, and incredibly fast too. Turning around without hesitation, he swung his arm to violently back hand anything or anyone that was closing on him. Unfortunately, the motion tracker wasn't really efficient for detecting and showing the height of the target. The Spartan's hit was hence slightly too high. But his enhanced reflexes allowed him to brace in time as a third alien shoved his elbows in his guts. It looked like the two other, same species encased in the same armor, but instead of blue, the new alien's protective plates were a deep silver. The alien was abruptly stopped as the human super-soldier took a single step back, a quarter of his shield still barely holding, all despite the mass of the alien, his strength, and the velocity he had had. The Chief swiftly deviated the gun the alien tried to point at his neck from his now kneeling position in front of him, took an other step back and kicked it with his armoured boot, sending it flying away.

The only indication that he was being shot at was his shield indicator being depleted bit by bit. The Master Chief spun around, bringing up his rifle. Of the two other aliens, one was diving into cover, and the other had retrieved its own rifle and was shooting at the Spartan. The Chief assured his aim, holding his rifle firmly to lessen the recoil's effect and pressed the trigger twice. Six bullets flew. The alien's shield blinked blue before failing, his dark visor shattered and dark blue blood splattered on the wall behind it. Its body went limp, letting go of its weapon and tilted backward, its boots still stuck to the floor.

'So much for playing nice...' The Spartan idly thought.

The second alien was, for now, unarmed so the human whipped around once more to deal with the third first. It was at that moment that something blue and translucent hit him, square in the chest, with the strength of a warthog at full speed. His boots failed to keep him anchored to the ground and he was sent flying backward, spinning uncontrollably. His shields were completely depleted and this time he wasn't able to turn around and bring his arms up to lessen the blow before violently crashing into the wall, shoulder first, leaving a sizable dent.

"Cortana, what was that?" The Master Chief sharply asked, shaking his head briefly to clear it from the shock.

"I-I don't know... some kind of energy weapon, like a covenant concussion rifle or something..."Cortana backhandedly answered, sounding busy and as distressed as before.

The Chief didn't want to take time to ask what she found as first, she sounded like she was still processing some kind of information. And second, for now he needed to catch the two remaining aliens before they flee. Scanning the hallway, the Spartan noticed that they were already gone, leaving their comrade behind. But thankfully, Cortana's triangular way-points were still showing him the shortest path to their entry point. Using the same method of displacement as before, the Spartan propelled himself forward, flying through the hallways. At the moment of the shock, the Master Chief had felt his weapon hit something hard and be knocked out of his grip. He hadn't lost any time trying to retrieve it and brought out his pistol instead.

The Chief took the first corner, spinning around it. There, at the middle of the next hallway, he saw the two aliens. As expected they hadn't gone far as they didn't possess the same enhancements as the Spartan. Moreover, they were no longer trying to flee, but they were tinkering with the panel next to a door. As he lifted his handgun, the sliding door slammed shut silently behind them.

"Damn... they locked the door." Cortana exclaimed, sounding surprised. "And fried almost everything!" Now she sounded angry.

The way-points changed position to show an alternate route.

"The magnetic lock is engaged...take this path it'll be faster than to force the door open."

Without wanting to contradict his AI, the Spartan followed the new path even if he knew that all the time he'd loose now -even if it was less than a minute- was time the aliens would win to get back to their shuttle. Taking this into consideration, he did his best not to loose any more time, but stayed careful nonetheless. A missed corner would mean even more wasted time.

"Cortana, what's happening? What did you find?" The Chief asked her, taking advantage of the short moment of relative respite and quiet.

"I'm not sure yet, give me a moment." Cortana answered shortly, almost dryly.

The soldier agreed to the AI's demand and instantly re-focused on the aliens.

As the Chief feared, once he got to the broken hatch, all he saw was the shuttle fly away. It looked strange, white and blue, like an exotic elongated car with rectangular, directional and movable reactors in place of the tires. The first pair pointed forward, the other backward. Definitely not covenant looking. Without hesitation, the Spartan lifted his pistol and emptied his magazine on the shuttle's closest reactor. The small ship was also equipped with the same blueish shield as the aliens, but much stronger. None of the Spartan's shots reached its hull, only draining the shield and ricocheting on it. As the pistol's clicked empty, the Chief didn't press the trigger one time too much, and instead of losing time reloading it while the shuttle floated away, he grabbed the aliens weapon on his back. Shouldering it, he waited briefly for all the pieces to have slid in place. He aimed and pressed the trigger. The recoil was strong, but still weaker than he expected for a weapon this size. No cartridge was seen being ejected from the left or right, and no moving bolt could be seen anywhere. By the impacts on the shield, he quickly concluded that the rifle was some sort of shotgun. However, as the distance to the ship was still increasing, that sort of weapon would not help him much. So he placed the weapon on his back again and moved back against the wall and prepared himself to jump.

"Wait! Don't!" Cortana nearly screamed, understanding what the Chief wanted to do a fraction of second before he actually tried to jump toward the shuttle.

"Why?" He asked, staying ready.

"What do you plan to do when they'll dodge you? Float away to infinity and beyond?", the AI chastised him.

"I won't miss.", he argued and countered, sure of himself.

"Hangar, this way, we might just find something more useful there...", she advised, 'showing' him the way.

The Master Chief took a moment to consider. Cortana was right to be worried. Behind the shuttle there was nothing for probably several light years. At least when he had jumped from the Cairo, Earth was still there to 'catch' him. With a sigh, he nodded and turned his head toward Cortana's first way-point. He just had the time to jerk his body out of the trajectory of another blueish translucent wave. At least one of the alien was still on the Dawn, the one with the silver armour and unknown weapon.

The Master Chief chased it right away, or rather sprung in the direction the strange wave came from, and it seems to flee toward the hangar too. With Cortana's help, and his speed, he managed to follow the alien, but also force him to go to the hangar. During the way, as the Spartan's armour and enhanced body allowed him to catch up to the intruder, it tried to keep the human at some distance using the same, strange, energy weapon. These times again, the Chief dodged them, sometime closely, but he didn't see anything resembling a weapon in the alien's hands. So he assumed it should be small enough to have been integrated into the armour's left arm or gauntlet.

Just as they passed the hangar's large door, the Spartan was close enough to catch the alien. It tried to use his strange weapon one last time, but the Master Chief struck at his arm, throwing its aim way off. Still in mid-air, floating, flying rapidly through the hangar, he grabbed the alien's collar to hold him still, pressed the shotgun's barrel against its dark visor and squeezed the trigger. Reacting surprisingly fast, the alien pushed the weapon away with its right hand. The shot would have completely missed it if it wasn't for the Spartan's strength. Instead, it hit its left shoulder making the shield fail completely and lightly damaging its armour. The Master Chief pressed the trigger a second time; the shot tore the alien's armour. And a third time; shredding its shoulder. The alien shook at each shot and at the third a spasm of pain ran through its body and it reeled back, letting go of the Spartan's weapon. He pushed the alien slightly away and took aim one more time to finish him off. But the intruder was saved once more as the Master Chief was knocked away, generous portions of his shield being drained, piece by piece, rapidly. The human magnetized his boots to gain footing and to see what he already knew.

The shuttle was back. And its two guns, one on each of its front reactors, was shooting on the human soldier through the still open door. Without hesitation, the Spartan ran to the cover of a structural pillar. Taken by surprise by his speed, the shuttle's aim wasn't perfectly able to follow its target. Even though, when the Master Chief was finally behind cover, pressing his back against the steel of the pillar, alarms were ringing in his ears and his shield indicator, empty, was blinking red. He stored the alien's weapon in his back and reloaded his sidearm. He knew the shuttle was still shooting at the pillar and around it as he saw the dents left by the bullets and felt the vibrations through his feet and back. He pressed his pistol on his hip. Last time, he hadn't been able to deplete the shuttle's shield, this time wouldn't be different and he wouldn't have time to empty his magazine anyway. Instead, he took his two fragmentation grenades and pulled both pins. He waited for his shield to start recharging. Making sure he wouldn't get hit, he glanced at the shuttle, letting only a small part of his helmet out of cover and only for a fraction of second. Hundred meters, maybe hundred ten. He would have to adjust the strength of the throws on the moment. He let go of the levers and counted. The small metals part started to spin and fly away from the soldier. Normally, he would have asked Cortana to help him as her processing capacities would have made sure the grenades would explode at the precise spot and instant where it would be the most effective and destructive. However, her silence told the Spartan that for the moment she was too busy. Hence the reason why he took two grenades. That way he would be sure that at least one of them would hit the shuttle no matter how it moved.

The Master Chief was almost about to toss his grenades, when he saw something from the corner of his eye. He turned his head. The alien he hadn't had the time to finish off was, surprisingly, still moving. Its left arm was limp and dark blue blood was oozing out of the wound, droplets floating all around the alien. It right arm moved slowly and weakly. But as he pressed the trigger of the warthog's turret, the gun reacted nonetheless, indifferent of the shooter's state, he three barrels already rotating fast. Thinking in a split second, the Spartan tossed one of his grenade under the warthog, dove to the side, out of its cover, his shield still undamaged and throw the other to the shutter. Without missing a beat, he then threw himself toward the door leading out of the hangar to re-think its strategy. His shields were taking a serious beating under the combined fire of the shuttle and warthog, but even if they would most likely not hold much longer, his dense armor would be able to take a few hits and by that time he would have reached cover. As the door was only a few meters away of the Chief, the grenades exploded. The shuttle was kicked to the side, its shields failing and one of his reactors being heavily damaged. The explosion under the warthog was much more powerful than expected, breaking the attaches that were holding it to the floor and sending it and the alien crashing against the ceiling. The detonation sent debris everywhere and, coming fast from his blind spot, the Master Chief felt something struck his side, hard.

He clenched his teeth, as his whole body shook under the impact. Ignoring the pain, he spun, twisting its limbs to the limit, reaching out with his right arm. Despite his best effort, and Cortana's as she desperately tried to alter his course, magnetizing almost his whole armor and closing the hangar, the Master Chief's hand missed the hangar's door by nearly a meter.

The Spartan and AI couldn't do anything as they both saw the Forward Unto Dawn get farther and farther away from them.

* * *

And there it is! I hope you liked it!

 **AN:**

So, time for a few informations about some things. They might answer a few questions you might have or explain some... oddities and inconsistencies. (tl:dr at the bottom)

First of all, I love both series. I played all Halo FPS games. And play all three Mass Effect games, I'll discuss about the DLC later. I also read the 'first' three Halo novels; The Fall of Reach, The Flood, and First Strike. But I sadly didn't read any Mass Effect novels or comics or the other Halo novels. That however might change in the future. What won't change however is that I explain in greater depth the elements I took from the books, so that those who haven't read it won't be lost.

As mentioned before and as you have noticed, this story start mid-Mass Effect 2. Shepard has already gathered The Archangel, Grunt, but also Mordin Solus in her team, she saved Jack for last. For The Halo verse, it starts at the end of the third game. It also means; Spoiler alert. I plan to continue this story over the events of Mass Effect 2 to its end, and for later plans take into accounts the events happening during Mass Effect 3. For now, I don't plan to integrate any events or elements from Halo 4 as this trilogy (Halo 4, 5, 6) is not yet over.

Now concerning the elements that I decided to change

Weapons:

There is no situation or universe I can possibly imagine where the 'upgrades' the Mass Effect's weapon underwent between the first and second game make any military sense. No soldier or general would have, in his right state of mind, asked for something like that. In the first game, the weapons had unlimited ammo and was only limited by the heating factor which forces the shooter to take relatively short pauses when shooting, limiting his average rate of fire. It is justified as the weapons don't shoot large bullets but tiny slug ripped away from a larger 'block' and shot at high speed by a mass effect field. According to the Codex such 'block' was able to produce (several) thousand(s) slugs. But shooting like that produced a large amount of heat that the weapon would have to dissipate. When the gun reached a too high temperature (overheat), it stopped shooting to prevent damage. The 'upgrade' between the two games had been thought to allow the weapons to shoot faster and maybe a bit harder by adding an 'heat sink'. It traps the heat and prevent the weapon from becoming hot. However the difference in the rate and power of fire is not really that great to be honest. But even if it was ; The Avenger has 40 shots per 'heat sink'. Let's say one has 10 sinks, that makes 400 shots. It is less than the half of the minimal amount of slugs contained in one 'block'. And such blocks could potentially easily be replaced the same was as a magazine or an 'heat sink'. The difference between the rate of fire and damage would have to be huge to justify such 'upgrade', limiting the number of shots to such an extent. There is only one reason why it exists ; game-play. So for now the weapons will work like they did on Mass Effect 1. Upgrades are already planned but they will be implemented differently.

Biotics:

To use biotics power, humans must, among other things, be outfitted with an implant, surgically inserted in their brains. Several times along the games, it is suggested that it is possible to use biotics for other things than the standard powers/ability (Warp, Pull, Push etc...), suggesting a certain freedom about how one would use his power. The Shepard in this story can use biotics, but I lifted the game's limitation about what ability a Vanguard can or cannot use. I understand and respect that these limitation are there in the name of balance, but Vanguard in Mass Effect 1 could use Warp Throw, Lift, etc... However there will still be difference between a Vanguard and an Adept, not in what power they can use, but concerning their efficiency. A Vanguard's throw will have real trouble to stand against Samara's.

Classes:

Shepard is an N7 operative. Meaning that she/he is among the best, and moreover, first human Spectre. She/He should be able to use any kind of weapons. There is no reason why a biotic Shepard could not use a rifle. This limitation exists mainly in Mass Effect 2 and I decided not to keep it for this story.

DLC:

I'll be clear and honest. I don't like DLC. I haven't played and DLC of the Mass Effect trilogy (Except the Extended Cut from Mass Effect 3 if it counts as one...). I 'may' play some of them in the near future (Lair of the Shadow Broker and Arrival for Mass Effect 2). So there's some good chances that this story will contain some elements from them, but I make no promise. And as with the books, I'll explain the events in greater depth for those who didn't play them. However this story will not include Kasumi, Zaeed, or Javik, sorry.

tl:dr :

-Weapons have (for now) nearly unlimited ammo like in Mass Effect 1 and no limitation among the classes.

-Biotic won't have the same limitations as in the game.

-The story is mainly based of the three Mass Effect games and Halo 1, 2 and 3.

-I will take and use elements from three Halo novels (The Fall of Reach, The Flood, and First Strike) but will also explain them for those who haven't read them.

-Maybe I'll include some elements from the DLC. But no Kasumi, Zaeed, or Javik.

Now that's all said, I really hope you liked it. I'm open to criticism and will gladly answer any question you might have.

See you soon (hopefully) for the next update.


	3. Time

Hello everyone!

Thanks everyone who reviewed, followed, favorited, and of course all those who read the last chapter.

As last time, there will be a little **AN** at the the bottom.

Answers to review:

 **six samurai of dragon order** : Nice reaction!

 **56006** : Thanks!

 **New R2D2** : I can't tell if it's really the Master Chief or not. I don't want to spoil anybody. But that's the kind of questions I like my readers to ask themselves. I hope you'll find answers soon!

 **tcs-shadowwalker** : That's possible. But I can't tell you yet, I don't want to spoil you.

 **Goldenspartan86** : This will be a mostly renegade Shepard with some part of paragon. (Say 3/4-1/4). If I happen to need the ringtone, I'll let you know!

 **Evevee** : The seven years lifespan of a smart AI is not a hard limit. In Halo 4, Cortana is 8 y.o.

 **Dracconnis** : Thanks! Here's one more chapter and the next before the end of the year we hope!

 **chante** : I'll try to get the next chapter before the end of the year if everything goes as planned, no promise though.

I would also like to thanks my beta-reader for his work and feedback.

And now here is the third chapter.

Read and enjoy!

* * *

 **TIME**

On the Purgatory

Commander Shepard stood straight, appearing relaxed, with her hands raised on each side of her head.

Everything in her spoke of a deep, controlled calmness : From her attire, the dull dark gray of her armor's plates, the lighter gray of the markings on them, and the black of the under suit. To the fact that she bore no weapons in sight and was presenting her open palms. Even the expression on her face. It wasn't blank or meek. She held her chin up, her lips pressed together, looking decided.

But to a trained eye, the reality of the situation was greatly different. Framed by the deep auburn of her hair and the crimson of her blood, her piercing blue eyes surveyed and studied her surroundings. With the methodical efficiency only found in seasoned soldiers and predators.

She stood in another hallway, narrow and small, no more than two meters in width and barely three in height. On her right, was a large Plexiglas bay, through which she could see a part of the burning station atop the dotted blackness of the space. She was secretly glad that she took her time walking in the previous hallway, allowing her eyes to get used to the now dark environment. The only light bathing the hallway was coming from the far fires. On the left, the wall was a dull grey and worn out white. On the far end of the hallway was clustered and blocked with crates and junk.

Right in front of her, at a few meters' distance, he stood, the Shadow. Now Shepard was able to observe him properly.

Dressed in black fabric, covering him completely except for his fingers and most probably his eyes. With an impressive stature, he was towering at two meters give or take a couple of centimeters. He was standing tall and assured. His frame wasn't as thick or muscular Shepard was lead to think due to his displayed strength earlier. He was standing motionless. And with his attire helping him to mingle with the shadows, it would have been easy, to a careless eye, to have missed him.

And without doubt or hesitation, the Shadow held a Carniflex with a firm and steady hand, aiming it at a point just between Shepard's eyes.

"I'm here, what do you want?", the Commander asked, going straight to business, with the voice and tone of someone feeling in charge of the situation.

"Your ship.", the answer was direct, short, most probably thought in advance.

Shepard blinked but remained impassive. No scoff, no shaking of her head, no rolling of her eyes and she kept her tone even. She had seen him fight, but knew yet nothing of his temper.

"Or what? You're not stupid, I'm your only hostage. And you're far from the first one to aim a gun at my face. So you can drop the act."

She covered the disdain of her speech under a flat tone and observed his reactions. In less than a heartbeat, she felt his eyes run down her body, given away by the slight downward movement of his head and he snapped his gun down, aiming at her hips. Undoubtedly at a soft spot of her armour.

 _"_ _Better.",_ the Commander thought and before she could speak, he asked.

"Can you fly the ship?"

"Fly, yes.", she began and waited an instant until the man was about to speak. "But landing, docking or harder maneuvers like dodging the next large obstacle, I'm not so sure.", Shepard finished with a light joking tone.

From her experience, in those kind of situation, people tended to react to jokes in a small variety of ways. If the answer was any form of anger, short nerve or snapping, then it would mean that this man was prone to react impulsively and emotionally. Insecure and lacking confidence, he would do anything to assert his hypothetical control over the situation. It was the best case scenario, as Shepard would just have to wait for him to slip, act recklessly and she would easily be able to gain the upper hand. Next, was someone who would joke along, relaxed and keeping his temper in check. This one would be more dangerous but also more likely to drop his attention due to overconfidence.

"Your pilot keeps his post. Everyone else go in cargo hold. You stay with me.", he stated firmly, enunciating his plan calmly and asserting his control over the situation and emotions with short sentences.

And the last kind, the one Thereza was the most wary of, someone who would just let the joke slip and keep his whole attention and mind on the matter at hand. A lighthouse in angry weather. Shepard would just have to see how much of a storm it could withstand before crashing down in the water.

"Who are you?", Shepard asked, deciding to go back to the basic as she was clearly at disadvantage concerning the information she had about his interlocutor.

"That's none of your concern.", the answer was quick and dry.

"So where do you want to go?", she shot back immediately.

"That's your pilot's concern."

Shepard's eyes widened briefly and the left corner of her lips slightly curved upward in a silent, humorless chuckle.

 _"_ _Point for you, big guy."_ , she thought dryly.

The Commander didn't had to stay silent before the man in front of her continued.

"If I see anyone else or you try anything, I'll shot."

With that, he tilted his head and motioned with his chin. A faint, movement, almost imperceptible but calculated to be noticed to someone as careful as the Commander. Clearly for him, there was nothing else to talk about and already wanted Shepard to lead him back to the Normandy.

"We don't have to do it that way.", the Commander said, keeping her eyes where his would be.

Garrus had been right, the man in front of her was definitely not a lost tourist. Deadly efficient in combat, he also held his borrowed weapon firmly and kept almost perfectly still while talking and listening. The only two exceptions were when he lowered his gun and when he motioned Shepard to move. Other than that, his body language and voice betrayed no emotion. Was it thanks to a total control over them, or a lack of them? He obviously wasn't a psychotic pirate, a desperate murderer or a crestfallen smuggler. And for an instant, Thereza wondered, despite the lack of metallic reverberation in his voice, if she wasn't in front of a synthetic.

"You look like someone who can handle himself and a gun on a battlefield. I happen to build a team in order to…"

"No."

Shepard's mouth was left half agape as she was cut off in mid-sentence. Not many people ever had the audacity and nerve to interrupt her.

"I didn't even fini…", she started, doing her best to keep her tone even.

"I'm no mercenary.", the man cut her off again a bit dryly.

The Commander closed her mouth and narrowed her eyes. She breathed in and out, slowly and controlled, allowing anger and annoyance to flow through her for a single instant before focusing back on the situation. The man has been quite adamant, -adamant for the amount of speech and emotion he displayed until then- that he wasn't a gun for hire.

Not many people reacted that way at the idea of being a mercenary. And the chances of this guy being a civilian after his little show were nearly non-existent. He could be police, c-sec, or military, but then why did he end up in a prison, the Purgatory moreover. Something wasn't adding up. And Shepard didn't like it.

Moreover, the possibility of this 'man' being a Mech was still current. Some kind of advanced, specialized Mech of course. She couldn't really imagine a LOKI Mech displaying such agility, speed, strength, and adaptability. But a Mech nonetheless, a synthetic. Shepard was liking the situation less and less.

She took a short breath.

"Look..."

"Talk's over, move.", the Shadow cut and ordered.

"No it's not.", Shepard answering, without snapping at him, but using her most commanding and strict voice. "You chose the wrong ship, and the wrong day. I'll be clear; you won't get into the Normandy until I say so."

She took a short pause to assess his reaction. He remained silent and still. Shepard narrowed her eyes but kept her temper in check, for now.

"Now, you came shooting at me and my team. Normally I wouldn't even consider talking to you. I don't know who you are, what you want. I don't know anything about you but one thing; you've got skills. Skills I can put to good use. But if you don't want to work with me, or even act nice, I see no reason why I should allow you to step on MY ship.", Thereza finished, her tone getting a dry edge.

She wasn't about to concede and give in to his demands. For obvious reasons. And no matter what she was saying, it seems that he wouldn't change his mind. Moreover, the Commander was inclined to stop trying altogether. Her temper was screaming her to dispose of him and be done with it and she was really tempted to just listen to it.

"Then we have a problem.", he stated once again without any clue in his voice or movement to betray his state of mind or intention.

 _"_ _Alright that's it..."_ , Shepard's patience had been tested and stretched more than enough during the day. She had some to spare, but the situation was now obviously locked with neither of them willing to step down even for a little bit.

"No.", Thereza answered as coldly as she could, narrowing her eyes. "You do." She finished, tossing the metaphorical match.

She jumped on the side as the loud cracking sound of a gunshot resonated in the hallway. Her shield defected the slug that ended its course in the ground with a small explosion of sparks. Without HUD, she couldn't know how much her shield had been drained. All she knew was that her shield and armour would, in normal condition, be able to withstand two shots, three if she was lucky. But a single shot to her head and it was all over. And she stopped believing in luck long ago.

Her arms were already raised so she promptly brought them in front of her face, slamming her forearms together. The second shot found its way between her armor plates, slamming against her sturdy under-suit at her hips articulation. She winced. The slug had been slowed down by whatever energy remained in her shield, and maybe ricocheted on one of her armour's plates, but the impact would still leave a bruise. However, she was right in her assumption, he was trying to incapacitate her even if it would have been far easier to kill her outright. And that'll be his downfall. Before the statics of her failing shield had faded, she was already surrounded by the blue hue of her biotics. The third shot went completely and harmlessly through her as she was already phased out. In a flash, she charged forward, elbows first.

* * *

As soon as Shepard left, Garrus Vakarian took the command of the rest of the small squad.

 _"_ _It's truly her."_ , the Turian thought dryly. _"Leaving to have a nice little chat with the guest and leaving me alone to take care of two bloodthirsty and angry killers. Whatever…"_

He sighed loudly due to weariness but also to hide a painful wince as he helped the wounded Jack up. Her knees were still obviously weak so the Turian held her up, passing one of her arm over his neck and bending his own legs to adapt to her height.

"Grunt, take point.", he commanded after a moment, to be sure the Commander was on the other side of the hallway.

A guttural sound was the only answer he received, but he saw the Krogan step forward and into the hallway, his rifle lifted and ready. Garrus followed, half dragging the human. They advanced, quickly and silently, not wanting to expose themselves more and longer than needed. No gunshot had been heard until then, which was a good sign, but they didn't want to test their luck.

As they arrived at the first door, Grunt stopped a meter further, hiding the two others behind his large stature and allowing them to access the control panel.

"EDI, what about our atmosphere at the other side of this door?", Garrus asked in his radio with a weary voice.

"Standard atmosphere attained eleven seconds ago, operative Vakarian.", the always even voice of the AI replied with her official tone.

Without waiting, or mentioning that EDI was slightly off with her estimations, Garrus opened the door and carried Jack through. The room beyond almost looked like a battlefield on Tuchanka. Broken crates and canisters, torn open and apart by explosions, burnt floor and ceiling, gunshots' impacts, bodies. But it all was quiet now, silent. He stepped forward, his rifle loosely held in his free hand and his eyes surveying the room. What worried him the most was behind him. But he stayed careful. Still advancing, he glanced back. Grunt was following him. Thankfully. For a moment, the Turian feared that the Krogan would let his instincts take over and charge in to make Shepard "share her fun". That wouldn't have ended well…

Garrus readjusted Jack's weight on his shoulders and kept advancing with steady steps despite his wound. The biotic woman was dragging her feet and grunting in pain now and then. It would have been easier to simply drag her, like Shepard did. But Garrus felt that it would have only worsen her already bad mood. And also, he had an image to maintain. That's why he kept his back straight and would not drag a woman, whatever her specie, on the floor unless necessary. He moved on, still advancing toward the Normandy, step after step, willing his legs not to shake under the weight and pain.

As Garrus eventually reached the door to the hatch, even if its hologram was still red, it wasn't without a sigh of relief that he placed his burden down. Stiffly or stiffer, he turned around and raised his Vindicator rifle toward the door leading to the station.

"Grunt, I've got the door, make sure the room is clear.", Garrus ordered the Krogan through his radio.

"The room has been exploded, burnt and vented! It IS clear.", Grunt loudly complained, stating his disagreement while already stepping through the hallway toward the Turian.

"Do it! I don't want a tough merc, or a mech jumping on my back. I'm done with surprise for today!", Garrus ordered again with a strict tone.

He could feel the Krogan's glare piercing him through his visor. However, he stood his ground, unflinching for several long, tense seconds. He let out the breath he was holding as Grunt eventually complied, not without a lot of angry rumbling. Garrus nodded to himself and focused back on the door, only to jump with a start and hastily whirling around at the sound of a Katana shotgun being shot, already expecting the worse. Seeing the scene in front of him, he pressed his mandibles closed and clenched his teeth, letting out a low growl that no one could hear. Grunt shot again, again, again, and again, five shots in total in the corpse on the Blue Sun that had already be dealt with by Shepard. Slowly Garrus turned his head back to the door his rifle was still pointing to.

He knew the berserk considered Shepard as his one and only battle master. Even if Grunt was acting like a rash, pouting child, stomping his feet and kicking the debris out of his way to the second mercenary, Garrus was already glad he obeyed without too much fuss.

The Turian then stayed motionless, not reacting at the growing disgusts he felt as he heard six other shots. And with a careful and perceptive ear like his, a wet sound, like the one made when one throws a handful of peddle in a puddle, wasn't lost to him, despite the loud, dry sound of the shotgun.

"So…" Jack began and swallowed difficultly. "Apart from painting the floor and making a lot of noise… you're not gonna help her or anything?"

Despite her rash and disdainful tone and somewhat weary voice, Garrus was able to hear something else in her tone. A hint of glee, that he was sure, at the sight of Grunt's violence speaking and pleasing to her psychotic side. But also, maybe, a bit of uneasiness. In that case, he understood that too. He knew quite precisely the extent of damage a shot of a Katana could do and could pretty well picture what a human body would look like after five or six. And even if she was accustomed with violence, Jack didn't need to use her imagination.

"The Commander can handle herself and know what she's doing. She's a big girl.", Garrus said with a sure voice. And like each time he spoke of her in that way, he hoped he would never be proven wrong.

"Well, you didn't see him but he's huge! Next to him, Shepard is a small girl with a tiny knife.", Jack argued back.

Garrus chuckle and spared a glance down at Jack who glared and angrily shot back.

"Something's funny?"

"Nothing… you just reminded me of someone I knew. Tough guy. Always ready for a fight. He was thinking a bit like you.", Garrus declared feeling a pang of nostalgia. But he pushed the feeling away, before starting to imagine how this mission would have gone with his old teammates.

Luckily for him, a bit of Krogan's delicacy helped him.

"Really? Who was it?", Grunt asked. His tone making his large grin obvious even if it was still concealed by his helmet.

Garrus didn't even turned his head. Of course the berserk would be interested.

"You might know him. Last I've heard, he's kinda starting to get famous around on Tutchanka as clan leader." Garrus said and eyed Grunt, carefully.

The Turian wasn't expert in Krogan's hierarchy and society's inner working, but he knew that they often looked up to their battle masters with admiration reserved to worthy warriors, but also potential rivals. On Tuchanka, a battle master's role was to make sure his troops were ready for war. And his troop's duty was to be and make sure he would be the one who lead them to victory.

Garrus was aware of this peculiar way of thinking and living, and that they were implanted into Grunt's brain and mind during his time in the 'glass mother'. However, for now Garrus knew he didn't have to worry about the Krogan's loyalty. Shepard rightfully earned it, while in the same time, inculcating an important lesson in humility.

***FlashBack***

Garrus stood in front of a closed door, checking his already deployed Mantis sniper rifle. For this range of engagement and the accuracy needed, he wouldn't need any scope, only using the iron sight as the Humans called it, and the aiming software from his eyepiece. Also, the Mantis provided a better accuracy then his Vindicator, which would be crucial should the need to press the trigger arise.

"Garrus, ready?", a feminine, human voice asked through his comlink.

The Turian nodded to himself, content with the state of his weapon, even if a few parts would still need some polishing. He pulled out his omnitool and pressed a couple of selected keys on the holo-keyboard that appeared on his palm. An orange screen flickered into existence over his forearm with two words. 'No Image'

"Partially operational", Garrus answered, pressing a button again to send the request to EDI. "I still don't have any video feedback."

"Are you sure? Try turning it off and on again!", Shepard said.

"I'm not sure it works that way, Commander...", Garrus answered with a careful tone. He didn't want to assume but Shepard answer confirmed his suspicion.

"Give it a try. Worst case scenario, you'll have something to hit.", she said with a light almost openly joking tone.

Garrus let out a good-hearted chuckle. Shepard's light and easygoing joke went over him like a soft, cool breeze in a hot and humid day of summer. That kind of breeze that would blow rarely and only for special occasion and a selected few people. He stayed silent, fiddling with his omnitool. The Turian knew Shepard didn't like idle chit-chat, so he didn't bother her with it. And even through the thick metal door, he could feel the Commander's mood help the tension in his back even for a bit. However, the artificial voice of EDI was quick to break the light and carefree atmosphere.

"Operative Vakarian, you should have access to the room's cameras now."

"Thank you, EDI", Garrus mumbled in answer, turning his full attention back to his omnitool, feeling the tension coming back in his shoulders.

The screen immediately gave him the video feedback of the camera with the best angle, and also showing small previews of the others in the bottom right corner. He saw Shepard, casually leaning against the wall and playing with her knife.

While Garrus had to admit; she wasn't half bad with a sniper rifle in her hands. But it wasn't where she excelled, even if he still considered her as a worthy rival in this field. Her biotics were more than good for a Human, while not on par with an Asari adept. However, the skillful and deadly combination of both made her stand out and above almost every combatant Garrus ever met or heard of. A force to be reckoned with. Many considered her the best thanks to this skill, some because of her knife. This knife she so much enjoyed playing with to occupy her mind.

But Garrus knew better.

Unaware of being watched, Shepard kept playing with her knife and made it stand on her fingertips while moving her hand left and right, making the knife sway. Several times it looked like it was about to tip and fall down, but with a swift movement of her wrist, Shepard masterfully prevented it to do so and sent the blade swinging in an other direction.

"Commander, I have video feedback now.", Garrus said, interrupting her.

He saw her lips move as she spoke without using her comlink. With her free hand she snatched the knife from its now perfectly upright position and re-sheathed it. For a moment, Shepard kept her eyes on the tip of her middle finger where the knife had been standing instants before, then she brought it to her lips and licked it. Garrus knew the commander always kept her blade sharp, so its tip would have no problem to puncture her skin. Once she was done licking the superficial wound, Thereza pushed herself off the wall and clicked her comlink.

"Garrus, I want both of your eyes on this screen at all time. Normally everything should go fine but..."

"...but you don't want to take any chances.", Garrus finished for her, having heard this tune and words lots of time before.

Simply and briefly nodding, Thereza let her arm fall on her side and stepped to the large tank, placed against the wall on the other side of the room. With the flick of a finger, Garrus switched camera to have a better view of the tank's occupant just as Shepard pressed several buttons on the control panel. Even through the locked door, Garrus heard the loud hissing sound of the tank opening. On the screen, Shepard took several steps back in order to leave enough room for the Krogan, large even for his species, that fell out of the tank and onto the floor. His frame shook as he coughed several times, spitting a large quantity of liquid before calming down eventually. Breathing heavily and still in his literal birth suit, the Krogan pushed himself off the ground and glared at the human female in front of him. In silence, the Commander kept her head bowed down, locking gaze with the newborn Krogan.

A split second later and with a mighty roar, the Krogan charged. Garrus had to commend Shepard and her self-control as she stood, unflinching and calm in front of what looked like more than two hundreds kilos of angry, running muscles. She didn't move until the last second. In an impressive display of speed and skill, Thereza sidestepped the Krogan. She arched her back, placed her hands on the alien's arm, -one behind his shoulder, the other on his forearm near his wrist- and twisted her body. The Krogan wasn't able to react in time. With his speed and the Commander's light but precise impulse, he was thrown, head first, into the wall. The impact was loud and heavy. The wall shook, blurring the image on Garrus' video feedback.

Any other alien would have been dazed for a few seconds or even knocked out. But the Krogan merely growled angrily, turned around and was ready to keep on fighting. Or trying to. He threw his left fist forward with a short roar. Shepard kept her face neutral and her silence in front of the punch and gracefully dodged it. She took several steps back. So when the Krogan tried to hit her again, he had to over-extend himself, sacrificing balance and trading it for range. The scaled fist passed dangerously close to her cheek this time as she dodged again. Taking advantage of the opening plainly presented to her, Shepard grabbed the alien's wrist and pulled, while kicking at his leg before he could assure his footing.

Garrus felt the tremor through his boots when the Krogan crashed on the ground with the grace of a bag of boulders. A Turian smile took place on his mandibles as he saw Shepard delicately pass a strand of hair behind her ear while the Krogan struggled back on his feet, bleeding from the nose. The alien's fists were shaking and his eyes burning with rage. He stood, motionless and glaring for a few instants. And suddenly, he grabbed a small nearby counter, lifted it and, with a roar, threw it at the Human, before charging forward. A blue aura ignited around Shepard, like a blue, cold flame. She swiped with her right hand and without the need to move, the counter missed her by a few centimeters.

But it didn't crash against the wall. Surrounded by a blue hue, the counter's trajectory was bent by a mass effect field controlled by the Commander through the fingertips of her left hand. The counter was hurled back the way it had come with at least as much strength and velocity. The Krogan was barely three meters in front of her when the counter was thrown into his legs with the clear intention of making him trip. To his credit, even if the counter caught him mid-step and the metal bent against his shin and knee, the Krogan only fumbled and somehow ungracefully managed not to face plant again. However, taking advantage of the distraction, Shepard moved swiftly and was already behind him when he regained his footing.

Garrus kept his eyes on the screen, as instructed, but rolled his shoulders, attempting to ease the tension, if only for a bit. Shepard had been right and the Turian felt that his rifle wouldn't be used today. So he simply stood there and enjoyed the show. Even if the scene was literally happening next to him, and he couldn't see it but on a low resolution screen, he felt a sense of pride grow inside of him as he knew he was one of the very few witnesses of a rare spectacle.

The Krogan was enraged. The adrenaline coursing through his systems made him stronger and faster, but also impatient and careless. The Commander was able to easily evade and walk around him, and despite some close calls that could have ended badly, displayed skills outmatching and outclassing brute force. At each passing second, the Krogan was becoming angrier as Shepard was barely panting. It wasn't a fight, it was a show of dominance. The two aliens were plainly aware that this altercation would have been over long ago would the Commander have wished so. She was armed, with her pistol and knife, but she obviously didn't need them.

Eventually, Thereza decided to stop playing, but in a way that took Garrus by surprise and nearly made him jump in the room, rifle raised. At the Krogan last charge, instead of side stepping him, the Commander stayed firmly on her feet, flexed her knees, raised her left arm and braced. The Krogan brutally rammed into her, lifting her off the floor, and a fraction of second later, pinned her against the wall. Even if she lessened the impact with her bioltics, Shepard still made a face as the Krogan's forearm pressed against her chest and throat.

The Turian sighed and grinned, but this time was unable to even start relaxing. His hand was still hovering over the hologram switch, ready to open the door, and burst in. The thing that stopped him to do so in the first place was what he noticed in Shepard's hands. Her left one was around the Krogan's first, pushing back to allow her to breath. But in her right hand was her Carniflex, her index already on its trigger, and its cannon a few millimeters from the alien's hide. Aiming at his chest sideway from under his arm, she was sure to do the most damage that way, potentially damaging his lungs and hearts if the shot went past his hide and ribs. And with the Carniflex's firepower, it most likely will.

***FlashBack End***

Garrus knew that as long as the Krogan was thinking the Commander deserved his respect he wouldn't cause any problems. But still, the Turian would keep his eyes on him. After all, Grunt received a severe -and one would even think humiliating- beating, right after his birth, and after months in a tank being taught, his brain fed with the Krogan's greatness. Vengeance might not be out of question.

So Garrus decided to help Grunt with a little reminder of who he was working and fighting for.

"When we were working together, this guy, this clan leader, did call the Commander a 'little human girl with a tiny, ridiculous knife'. Once.", Garrus finished with a sense of pride.

It wasn't her fighting prowess that impressed him the most. But rather that Shepard, no matter what, always seemed to have the situation under control.

* * *

Shepard coughed several times, weakly and breathless. A small quantity of blood sprayed on the metal ground that was a few centimeters from her face. A drop of this crimson liquid fell down from her lips. She shook her head to make it stop spinning and clear her blurred vision. She had pushed her chin down to prevent the back of her head from hitting the wall so she must have banged it on the floor when she had been sent rolling on the ground and crashing into the crates. Blinking slowly and struggling to push and hold herself up with her left hand, her right still pressed against the left side of her chest, her vision cleared, revealing to her a strange painting. On a dark, steel gray sky, dotted by some faint stars, a blood red moon was laying still.

Everything had gone smoothly at first, yet. She had been able to kick the gun out of his hand. Of course, when she had charged him, he had reacted way faster than any human should have been able to, shoving his shoulder forward intending to ram into her. But she had expected it. Passing literally through him had actually managed to faze him, and to make him react and turn around hastily and slightly carelessly, costing him his weapon. A swift and precise kick had taken care of that.

Thinking she had had the advantage at that time, she had kept the pressure.

How quickly the tables would turn.

She had seen an opening, and taken it, aiming for his face. But before her fist had been able to connect, her side had exploded in pain. She had heard a loud cracking sound, and had felt her floating ribs cave in. Her breathing had been abruptly cut. The air had been expelled from her lungs, under the colossal force that impacted on her armour. She had barely registered being thrown into the steel wall, then sent rolling down the hallway into a pile of crates.

Shepard blinked and let out a slow, short breath. The sudden increase in pain made her clench her teeth, placing an angry grimace on her lips. New energy poured into her limbs, powered by her willpower and she pushed herself back on her feet, barely staggering. Her hand reached behind her back, with a speed that would made most jealous, and landed precisely on the handle of her knife. A shrill sound rang as the steel scraped against the magnetic holder. Followed by a tenuous, almost quiet whistle as the blade drew a dangerous arc in front of the Commander.

Just in time.

The Shadow had closed on her while Shepard had been regaining her spirits on the floor. His hand had been about to grab onto her when he once again displayed reflexes the Commander had trouble believing, and pulled back a step, the tip of the blade narrowly missing his fingers.

In this short moment of respite, Shepard was able to analyze the situation, once again, but under a different point of view. She inhaled forcefully, feeling like there was a huge weight pressing down on her chest, making it exceedingly difficult to draw breath. Her head was hurting again. And her right hand, pressed against her chest, was still shaking. But her left hand held her knife with a strong, sure grip. It was a gift from Garrus. He bought it as soon as he had gotten word she was back. Its handle was perfectly shaped to welcome her hand and make sure it wouldn't slip. Its tanto blade was a dull dark gray and its thin, angular edge shone, reflecting the light from the fire, and giving it a faint orange taint. Unlike most of the knife made at that time, this one was made mostly out of metal, -best steel allow in any market according to the Archangel- instead of ceramic. Shepard never fancied ceramic blades. They felt some kind of wrong in her hands and when her fingers were running against their flat sides, the warmth didn't match what she was expecting.

She was holding her knife horizontally and her eyes surveyed the Shadow in front of her, feeling him do the same for her. She was now nearly sure he wasn't a mech. If he was one, he wouldn't had cared about losing a finger. This man was strong and fast but certainly not unbeatable. Shepard had already managed to surprise and catch him off guard, twice. When she had gone through him with her biotic charge, and when she had gotten up when he had thought that she had been done for.

Now Thereza had two more advantages over him, one in each hand, and she would have to use them carefully. This man knew what he was doing, and a second hit like the first Shepard had taken would send her down for good. She exhaled slowly, her right hand stopped shaking, still holding a piece that had detached from her chestplate.

The Shadow was keeping a high guard, both hands open. He was the first to move, taking a step. He first feinted but Shepard didn't fall for it. He then reached forward with his right hand as to grab her armed hand, and pulled back his left, ready to deliver another devastating punch. Thereza stepped back but kept her guard up. In a swift and precise movement, she threw the piece of ceramic she was holding. What followed could have been qualified as messy for an untrained eye. Either unable to react in time or not having seen it, the Shadow finished his step, his heel landing on the ceramic shard. With a shrill sound, it made him slip and loose balance. Shepard struck at that moment. Her blade went under his arm, and slashed diagonally intended to slice his pectoral muscle and hopefully the arteria with it. The Shadow however, instead of trying to stay up, let himself fall backward catching himself with his left hand. Doing so, he once again narrowly missed being crippled.

'Was it on purpose or is he getting tired?' Thereza clenched her teeth harder.

She kicked at his supporting arm and slashed down as he attempted to hit her knee. Both failed as the other had to pull back to avoid being hurt. There was a second of pause while Shepard threw her knife from her left to her right hand, then she advanced on him. She was once taught; 'If you can't hit hard, at least hit fast, and hit true.'

And so Shepard did. Keeping her left arm to shield her still sore and wounded chest, both feet firmly on the ground for her balance, she stepped forward first this time. Without a single instant of hesitation, she slashed and stabbed. The blade whistled in the stale, dry air of the station. Only music accompanying a lethal dance.

Her mind was solely focused on her opponent, -the position of his hands and feet, the inclination of his body- and her blade. Anger boiled in her vein. Anger at the Shadow for hoping to hijack the Normandy, attacking her team, shooting at her. Anger at Miranda for being so nosey. Anger at The Illusive Man for being so secretive. Anger at Grunt for managing to be a thorn in her side so often. And rage at herself. Rage, for falling in this trap, letting this situation happen and for not being good enough. But she had to keep her mind clear, leveled, focused. As she always had done, using her anger as a fuel but having the self-control not to let it explode. She knew that she wasn't allowed the slightest slip up. She kept pressing her offensive, feeling her muscles burn and pull. She had to force each breath into her lungs through her clenched teeth. Her arm moved gracefully and fast in an impressive show of skill and control, using her blade both for offense and defense, her own hands becoming blurred even for her keen eyes.

But it wasn't enough

Her opponent avoided or parried each of her attacks, none coming even close. But she wasn't about to give up as the constant pressure she was keeping was forcing him to step back. However, it didn't take long before he started striking back. She hadn't seen his first punch coming when he had thrown her against the wall. But now, she was able to dodge them, far too close for her comfort. Begrudgingly, she acknowledged that she could not trust her senses and reflexes to react in time. She relied mostly on her instincts and experience to anticipate his movements and throw her body out of the way, or forced him to pull back by the edge of her knife, barely in time. She didn't even think about trying to block him. But that was exhausting and taxing, far more than most of the other fight she had taken part of. Eventually she felt her eyes fill with tears against her will under the growing pain caused by the physical exertion. She knew it couldn't last any longer as the Shadow, on his side, showed no sign of fatigue.

Shepard was holding up to him, barely holding up. She knew it wouldn't last forever. Her knife was the only advantage she had over him. He was considerably stronger, maybe slightly faster, and undoubtedly at least as skilled as she was herself. She had to land a decisive strike. Taking a risk and betting her victory on an attack that would end this fight.

In a last attempt, Shepard thrust her palm forward, her thumb and index still holding her knife. In a flash, her biotics ignited and the Shadow was too close to dodge the blue wave that impacted on his chest, forcing him three steps back. Thereza felt her legs weaken under her. This day was supposed to be a simple pick up mission. But she quickly had been forced to shoot her way through a whole base filled with fire, explosion, and mercs, then convinced a criminal to join her team, and now this guy. Keeping her biotics flaring despite the drain on her stamina, and before he could regain sure footing, she lifted him, intended to ram his head into the ceiling. His weight was greater than she expected however, and so was the strain on her body and her power. So instead of needlessly overusing her power, she simply reversed the polarity of her mass effect field and slammed him down on the floor with all her remaining biotic might. She felt the tremor through the sole of her boots. As the Shadow and her biotics impacted down on the floor, the steel gave in and caved in, sinking for a couple of centimeters to create a small, artificial crater.

Shepard should have expected the outcome. Instead of needlessly flailing his arms and legs around, the Shadow kept his unnerving calm. With precise movements, he spun in midair, weightless. And when the Commander sent him down, he was able to land with some kind of grace. Landing on his feet, then placing a knee and a hand down to lessen the impact. The steel gave in under his feet, but he showed no sign of being hurt in any way or even dazed. He slowly lifted his head toward Shepard as the blue hue affecting him finally dissipated.

It was no longer a matter of believing it or not. It happened, again and again, right in front of her.

This guy, the way he fought, his resistance, resilience, agility. He wasn't simply 'good' or 'very good', he was inhuman.

Exhausted, Thereza sighed and cursed. New blood was trailing down her jaw from the wound on her temple that must have re-opened with all this agitation. Her heart was pounding. She was doing her best not to pant too fast and too deeply to lessen the pain even if her chest felt better. She blinked. The Shadow charged her again, with as much vigor as he first had had. Shepard was barely holding her guard up and knew she wouldn't be able to dodge his next hit. Gritting her teeth, she bravely stepped forward. Her gaze still locked in the darkness where his eyes would be, she waited for him to be closer, too close.

No movements were wasted. Everything happened in a split second. Faster than any normal human could follow, and faster than any normal human should be able to perform.

He batted her right hand away. She didn't resist. Her fingers worked swiftly and precisely. The knife appeared to fall down. His open hand landed on her chest plate. She grabbed her falling knife in her left hand. He effortlessly lifted her. She stabbed toward his chest. She heard the ripping of tissue.

But she missed his chest. By mere millimeters.

With only one arm, the Shadow lifted Shepard up and handled her like a weightless ragdoll. Her sense of balance slipped. Instinctively she grabbed his wrist but that didn't prevent her legs from going over her head. She still couldn't see his eyes.

Abruptly, pain exploded at the back of her head, blinding her for an instant, or a minute.

When her senses came back Thereza understood two things fairly quickly. First she had been sent to the ground. And second, a hand was around her throat and she couldn't breathe anymore –still conscious, her absence shouldn't have been longer than a few seconds-. She attempted to raise her hands to strike her opponent's head and throat, but she quickly realized they were pinned down too. Her right into an iron grip. Her left under a foot. -Despite the shock and her brief absence, she still managed to keep her knife. – She flexed and pulled as hard as she could, kicking wildly with her legs, wanting to slide out of under him, free her hands, or even make him loosen his grip around her throat. But nothing did. She could as well have been struggling under a Mako.

Thereza glared up and needlessly opened her mouth as if it would help in squeezing some oxygen through her windpipe. She felt her limbs become slow and weak despite any amount of adrenaline. Despite her best efforts, panic slowly took a grip on her. Her vision started to blur and darken. She knew he didn't want to kill her, just incapacitate her. Anger flared higher and so did her biotics. She refused to end like that. She never stopped fighting and resisting almost frantically. Her body simply stopped responding to her mind's command, and her mind itself became numb, clouded. Her whole being felt like she was sinking into a pit filled with heavy oil.

Her radio crackled faintly, the static died down quickly, giving way to a voice. A clear, feminine voice that carried authority without being loud and managed to pierce through and reach Shepard's mind and consciousness.

"Olly olly oxen free." (1)

A bit too far from the Forward Unto Dawn

Time has a different meaning for me, a different feeling, a different definition. For you it stretches, shrinks, flutter, standstill, or disappears as you think, sleep, fear, fight, or love. You may assume that I have so little of that precious thing you call time, not even a decade. You would be right, but don't feel sorry for me as this time is in no way 'little'.

For at the end of my seventh year, I would have been able to learn, see, feel hear, think, experiment, more that you would in seventy lives.

My time feels as it passes. It's immutable and flows more regularly than second ticks on the clock.

A blessing and a curse. Computing several trillions of operations per seconds is me being slow and lazy. And this, each seconds of the twenty-four hours of each day since I became aware.

Each of my seconds lasts as much as the next. Not longer, not shorter.

It took me a bit less than 10 seconds of computation. I ran enough simulation to be more than 99% sure, took every scrap of available information into consideration. The position of the Dawn and unknown vessel, their gravitational pull, electric or magnetic field. The position to the next stellar mass. The possibility to use your air reserve to propel yourself. I even re-thought the possibility of a slip-space rupture generator into a much smaller craft. In the end, the conclusion was still the same; we were not getting back on the Forward unto Dawn on our own.

Funny thing is; you deduced it on your own the exact moment you were unable to take hold of that last wall and were ejected out of the ship. I felt you slow your breathing down and keep your calm, easily stopping your spin. I knew it was useless to confirm you what you already seem to have understood and accepted before me.

Dutifully, I listened to you as I desperately saw each seconds passing by. Each, one by one, agonizingly slowly bringing us closer to the inevitable.

First, as you requested, I remotely connected myself to the Dawn and completely erased all the disks, databases and storage, methodically resetting every bits from every memory space on every platform I had access to. I then brought the main, auxiliary and emergency reactors far beyond their safe level. It wouldn't make her explode and end the ship's service in a bright flash. But rather it would progressively turn her hull into a dull then bright red colour, make her inside melt until the reactors melt themselves. Not the best end for a warship. But it would make sure to turn her into something worthless, a piece of junk, only good for its metal. Make sure no important system could be salvaged, no weapon, no shield, no computer.

You didn't actually have to tell me anything, and I should have told you not to speak, to save your air. But I let you finish your short sentences, listening to your words, as I lowered the temperature inside your armour to slow your metabolism down. I shut down most of the MJOLNIR's system to save energy. Energy that I diverted to your radio, sending an S.O.S. on every frequencies and with every languages and dialects I knew, even those I just learned. And to your shields too, overloading them as much as possible without frying them and half of your armour with them.

After all these years, all these battles, fighting a war that nearly brought humanity to extinction, that would have sunk the galaxy into oblivion if it hadn't been for us, your body and your mind resisted, holding strong even in the heart of the enemy's base or lair, or the void of the space. After everything you lived through, it was your equipment that eventually failed you. All over your chest, your bodysuit was punctured by several micro breaches. The hydrostatic gel had been partially compromised due to extreme heat. The upper layer of your skin had been burnt. Long story short; your suit wasn't airtight anymore. I hadn't had the material to fix it while you were sleeping in the cryotube. The tank was hermetic. When you got out, I had managed to keep it to a minor leak that wouldn't have been problematic in the short run. But now, it didn't matter that I was still able to maintain and assure a breathable atmosphere inside your suit. Because you would eventually run out of air.

I knew it, you knew it. Whether it would happen in sixty seconds or sixty days, didn't change anything.

You never liked space, didn't you? Spartan couldn't take their fight into space.

One more second passed.

I acknowledge your instructions with a calm voice. I should have told you who were those aliens, where they came from, who they worked for. I should have told you what I found on their ship's computers. Which was quite the huge surprise, even for me I must admit. No... you didn't need to know. Not now. You had to remain calm and composed and were thinking hard enough for now. All that mattered was to save time, to save air.

And for the first time, I lied to you.

Not in my words, but with my serene and soothing voice.

"Done Chief, now let's see how I can bring you back on board."

Of course I was still computing and processing the data to find a solution. I couldn't just stop thinking. AI weren't conceived for that. AI were alive because they were thinking.

But I already knew the answers I was frantically looking for. And already found hundreds of times.

"Good job, Cortana."

And now you were lying to me too. Without knowing, without wanting to.

Because it wasn't 'good'. It was my best... and it wasn't enough.

You haven't given up, but entrusted your fate to me.

I haven't given up, as I was still naively trying to think out way out. Computing relentlessly without hope and contemplating the biting feeling seeping through my processes. Like tentacles and tendrils tightening around me, making me feel trapped, making me fight against panic.

Despair. Proven to me thousands of time each seconds.

And after all these years, 'I' was the one to fail you.

'Two corpses in one grave...'

Maybe... if all hope was lost...

I lowered your suit's temperature even more. I couldn't place you into cryosleep, but I was able to put you into hypothermia. Then progressively, I stopped renewing the oxygen, letting your armour get filled with carbon dioxide. You had been trained for that, and soon, you let your consciousness slip, knowing that fighting against it would be useless and a waste of air and energy. But even then as you were sinking into a coma, I didn't bring back the oxygen.

It took a few minutes, your breathing was still slow, and the process was painless. And I watched over you the whole time.

Inescapably it happened.

I didn't feel your heart stop.

I felt a faint tremor on your chest. I heard the sudden surge of pressurized blood pulse through your carotids. I saw the tip of your fingers darken in IR. And registered the spike on your ECG. I didn't only feel this beat; I understood it.

And I awaited for the next... sinking into a pit of despair and sorrow as the seconds slowly went by, turning into minutes...

UNSC Master Chief Petty Officer S-117

Status: M.I.A.(2)

* * *

And here you go!

Who is on the other side's of Shepard's radio? What are this person's aims?

Is Cortana hoping to achieve something, be merciful or has she gone crazy?

I've been wondering, what is worse (or better...) than a cliffhanger? How about two cliffhangers?

Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it. Whether you liked it or didn't don't hesitate to leave a review.

 **A.N.**

This time it'll be shorter than the last.

1/ I know that many of you knows what it means, but I also suspect that for some, it doesn't really make sense. But think of this in that way; Shepard would be lost too! And as her part is mostly told though her POV, it'll be more immersive. And I don't want to spoil anybody. So if you really want to know what it means, don't hesitate to send me a MP.

2/ Spartans never dies. They go Missing In Action.

During the human-covenant war, the Spartans II were humanity's best hope for survival. So whenever one went down he was declared Missing In Action. It was to build the legend of unkillable and unbeatable warrior. The news of a super-soldier being Killed In Action would be a too heavy blow to the morale of the troops and the civilian.

Moreover, a few thoughts concerning the last chapter.

About Shepard's harsh reaction toward Grunt, Jack, and The Illusive man. Keep in mind that at the time of the second game, Shepard is a hardened soldier to the core, with more than ten years of service, at least one suicide mission, and she/he already saved the galaxy once. And in term of personality she's mostly renegade, don't like being second guessed and is used to being in command.

Concerning the Chief in last chapter, I hesitated a bit when I was writing his part. It's true that he is really good, among the best. But even if he's quite close, he's not unbeatable. He's still a man, not a god. So for a first contact against aliens that were able to use biotics (one of them), outnumbering and heavily outgunning him with the effect of surprise, he managed rather well. Downing one, critically wounding another and disabling a Kodiak.

Also, I'll do my best not to be too cryptic, but there will be quite a few things that I won't simply tell you flatly and outright. Meaning there will be mysteries, hints for the mysteries' solutions, but also partially hidden mysteries.

I think that's all.

So see you soon for the next update!


	4. Introductions

Hello everyone !

First of all, thanks you for your support, reviews, favorite, follows. And thanks for reading this !

This time, we're going to do things differently the answers of the reviews will be int the AN at the end.

So until then, happy reading, enjoy !

* * *

 **Introductions**

Jeff "Joker" Moreau was not having a good day.

A few moments earlier, he had seen Garrus, his favourite Turian, walk in the Normandy SR2, limping, with a fortune knife sticking out of his back. The Turian had been half carrying a bleeding criminal, already known for her psychopathic tendencies. And the pair had been accompanied by an angry Krogan whose step had been slightly unsure but his grumbling loud enough. Before he even had had the opportunity to ask why Shepard hadn't been with them -and what the hall was happening-, Miranda Lawson had ordered the lock-down of the cockpit.

Now he had nothing else to do but wait. Wait for Shepard to be done convincing a "potential new recruit" for their team of misfits. Wait and practice his drumming skills on the armrests of his chair. Wait and keeping his fingers busy to try to ignore the tremors he was feeling through the sole of his shoes. Tremors caused by the strongest explosions. Explosions bringing back some unpleasant memories.

Wait and doing his best to pretend ignoring the ever growing tension and feeling of impending doom.

He sighed for what would have been the hundredth time. He just finished the check-list one more time, making sure the Normandy was ready to depart on a moment's notice, so he rewarded himself with a few spins of his chair. While spinning, looking up, he let his mind wander for an instant.

But only for an instant, as an AI decided it was the best moment to interrupt and make his day worst.

"Mister Moreau, there is a situation with the communications.", declared EDI.

Joker rolled his eyes and sent his chair spinning. He couldn't deny the usefulness of EDI on a lot of aspects concerning the handling of the Normandy. And while he wasn't as wary of her as the Commander, he still didn't like having someone -literally or not- breathing on his neck.

He stopped his chair, facing the light blue hologram of EDI. The sphere was staring, emotionless, back at him and continued now that she was sure to have the pilot's attention.

"Someone is trying to hack our communication's system to reach Commander Shepard's radio. I was able to prevent it until now. She asks to speak to someone in charge."

"Then shouldn't you be telling this to Miranda or Garrus?", Joker asked, sounding worried.

Hacking wasn't exactly his strong suit and this kind of situation would be handled in a far more appropriate manner by Miranda Lawson, or someone with similar skills. However, he was also confident in EDI's capacity to block almost any human or VI hackers by herself.

"Operative Lawson is busy preparing the defense of the ship and operative Vakarian is still in the infirmary. By Commander Shepard's instructions, you are the next one in the line of command, mister Moreau."

 _'I'm in command...'_ , a stray thought passes through Joker mind but the seriousness of the situation prevented him to grin.

"Alright, here goes nothing... patch me to the mysterious hacker and... keep doing your stuff about preventing her to hack us.", Joker instructed, spinning his chair so that he would be facing the window, and the burning station.

A light beeping sound and his omnitool blinking signaled him the communication channel was ready. With a flick of his finger, he opened this channel.

"This is Normandy SR...", Jeff started, using the same official tone he always had used while talking through the radio.

"Patch me through Commander Thereza Shepard immediately.", the person on the other side of the radio demanded right away.

While Joker was taken aback by the sudden request and the rude way it was formulated, the voice itself didn't slip past his attention. Light, clear and high pitched, so either a woman or a teen, -most probably the first-. But also containing a rough edge like after a bad coughing fit.

"Who are you? Identify… !", Joker demanded, keeping his composure.

"This is a matter of life or death, flight lieutenant.", the person snapped with a carefully controlled voice.

Instinctively, Joker stiffened. Technically, he wasn't in the System Alliance anymore. But this person seemed to know enough about who she was talking to and carried unquestionable authority in her voice and tone.

Jeff swallowed with a bit too much difficulty and straightened on his chair before speaking up again.

"Even if I could, I won't do anything before I know who you are."

This time however, he wasn't interrupted and only silence answered him. Long tense seconds passed by. Eventually, he turned to the ship's AI.

"EDI?", he simply demanded, knowing she'll update him on the situation.

There were light, slow pulsations on EDI's hologram but once again, he was only answered with silence for several long seconds. The lifeless, emotionless hologram of EDI 'staring' back at him. The silence and tension was getting unnerving. Joker spun his chair to fully face the AI's blue 'eye'.

"She's gaining access to Commander Shepard's radio. I am trying to block her but she seems to already know her way through my standard firewall.", EDI finally declared.

For a split second, Joker wondered whether EDI's tone would change and show a bit of urgency or at least some concern if she was talking about a critical failure of the life support. Somehow, he doubted it...

Then panic sunk in.

"Then do something!" He exclaimed loudly.

The pilot knew damn well that was precisely the kind of situation when Shepard didn't want to get disturbed. Even if it was 'only' the radio, the consequences could still be disastrous.

"What would you suggest Mister Moreau?", EDI asked. Even if her words could have been described as sarcastic, her tone was even and emotionless.

"Anything! Start by warning Miranda or Kelly!", Joker answered back, nearly shouting.

He should have known! In term of hacking, Miranda was infinitely more skilled than him, and anyway he was of no help to EDI in that area. And Kelly was the 'official officer' of communications.

He turned his attention back to the radio and was about to call the mysterious woman, -to talk her out of her folly,- but she beat him to the punch. And a quick glance to his omnitool informed him that she indeed managed to get to Shepard's radio.

"Olly olly oxen free."

 **00000000000000000000000**

A bright flash, a loud scream, a hard slap.

Thereza wasn't sure of which of her senses recorded the sudden spark that woke her up. She gasped loudly and deeply for the air her burning lungs desperately screamed for. She heard the voice, understood the words, but the only things she focused on right now was the loosening grip on her throat and wrist.

More out of reflex than anything else, she threw both of her knees up. She must have caught him by surprise as she felt his weight shift slightly. Grabbing this opportunity, Shepard slithered her arm free and blindly threw her fist forward. She was rewarded as she felt her knuckles connect with something hard, immediately followed by a distorted, warped clapping sound.

More than the physical force behind her hit, it was the biotic that enhanced her attack that eventually threw the Shadow off her. Without losing even a split second, Thereza pushed herself away from him, her armoured back skidding on the metal floor. She hastily rolled and landed on her knees. Her hands were shaking and feeling numb so she grabbed the handle of her knife with both, as firmly as she could. She forces herself not to cough so that she was able to draw deep controlled breaths. She stayed on her knees as she still didn't trust her legs to support her for now.

Thereza hastily blinked several times and shook her head. She heard noises not far. Footsteps, metal creaking. But nothing that seems to get nearer to her. Nonetheless, she kept her biotic flaring around her, ready to strike forward.

Eventually, after a second or two, the dark veil on her vision completely lifted. The scene before her made her grit her teeth. At a safe distance, the Shadow was standing, seemingly unhurt and unfazed, holding the pistol he was able to pick up while Thereza was regaining her composure. What instantly caught her attention, and told her something was off, was the way the Shadow was holding his borrowed Carniflex. Pointing down and his finger out of the trigger.

"What is your affiliation to the UNSC?", he asked sharply, without even sounding winded.

Silence. It lasted only for an instant but it felt like a minutes to Shepard as her mind was reeling with too much questions. At the end, she was only able to ask one, the one that made the more sense.

"What?"

That couldn't be right, she must've misheard.

"Is Cerberus affiliated to the UNSC?", the Shadow asked again, altering the question slightly to make it more general.

Thereza's grip stayed sure around her knife's handle but the flames of her biotics surrounding her body died down. Nobody would ask such question. Even someone who had spent years in prison, -or in a cryopod in said prison- would not think something like that even remotely possible. It was absurd. Unimaginable. Except if...

"Are you... part of the UNSC?", Shepard asked slowly and suspiciously.

Now that she somehow calmed her breathing down, she stood up. Her mouth felt dry from the exhaustion and smoke. A dull headache reminded her that she overused her biotic. The left side of her chest was still very sore, -making breathing excruciating- and now her right hand was too. The Shadow let her do but he grabbed his weapon with both hands, ready to react. Shepard stayed ready too, but on a far more defensive stance and state of mind.

"Answ...", the Shadow began.

But he was cut off as an explosion, closer and more violent than the others, rocked the hallways. The Shadow stumbled a bit and Shepard had to lean against the wall not to fall down.

"We can continue this discussion here, or on my ship. In one of these solutions we'll be able to talk a lot longer...", Shepard quickly offered after she regained sure footing.

As much as it pained her to admit, the Shadow had her pinned down and at his mercy a few moments ago. But when he had heard this strange phrase out of the radio, he had hesitated, and slightly released his grip of her. And right now, he was armed again and the Commander obviously weakened, yet he made no movement to capitalize on his advantages.

To Shepard, he didn't appear as someone who would change his mind that easily. So this childish phrase should hold a great importance to him. That and 'UNSC'. Whoever he might be, Shepard now needed and wanted him more than ever on her ship. Also, the Shadow now seemed more open to the possibility of complying without forcing his way. Very few people were eager to stay on a burning station.

He indeed thought for a split second before motioning Shepard to move toward the end of the hallway, toward the Normandy's hatch.

Keeping her serious and stern expression, Shepard shook her head.

"You know the way, so take the lead.", she said firmly and extended her hand. "And give me that gun."

As a sign of good will, Thereza slid her knife back in its sheath. But she knew better than to relax completely and casually left her hand on the pommel of the knife's grip. Without noticeable hesitation, the Shadow passed the gun from one hand to the other so that he was holding the cannon and presenting the grip, stepping forward. Shepard met him halfway, grabbing the Carniflex.

There was a moment of suspended tension.

A lot of thoughts passed through Shepard's mind, but she ignored them for now and focused on her objectives; get this man aboard without further fuss or fight and find out precisely who he was. This might very well go far beyond Cerberus. And very well be a greater threat to humanity than the Collectors.

A second passed. Thereza felt the Shadow's eyes scan over her, gauging and judging her. She didn't mind however as she did exactly the same thing. Her finger wasn't in the trigger, but still extended just above it.

Eventually, the man let go of the weapon. Maybe he saw something in the Commander's eyes that finished to decide him. Maybe it was something that Shepard, did, or didn't do.

And just like that, the Shadow walked past Shepard, heading toward the Normandy's hatch.

Thereza carefully kept her eyes on him. The possibility of all this being a fraud was still on her mind. Some kind of elaborate strategy to make her drop her guard and attention. She breathed out, slowly, controlled. So she followed him, a few steps back, the Carniflex in her left hand. The Shadow kept long, sure strides and only glanced back at Shepard when he passed the several corners. Shepard noted how he seemed to trust her enough to have her in his back, armed and most of the time unwatched.

The hallways they passed through were either dark, or with flickering, failing lights. Fortunately, the fires hadn't reach them yet. But Shepard could still feel the tremors of explosion through the soles of her boots. The last hallway, just before the Normandy's hatch, felt like it was rocking lightly or sometimes falling. Shepard knew it was an illusion caused by the failing artificial gravity of the station. It was high time for them to leave.

The door to the hatch was unlocked and opened at their approach, but the one to the inside of the Normandy was still locked, the red hologram on it proving it. Nonetheless, they both entered. The Shadow first, stopping in the middle, slightly on the right before turning to face the Commander. As soon as she stepped inside the hatch closed behind her.

Here, there was more lights. The walls were either white or steel grey, giving an impression of cleanness. A cleanness only stained by footsteps of Shepard's squad. But also by fresh blood droplets just next to the Shadow's foot. Observing him, Thereza easily noticed that they were actually falling from his right hand.

"You're bleeding.", she stated, looking at him sceptically as he was showing no sign of being hurt.

"You shot me.", the Shadow simply and swiftly answered. His deep voice contained no accusation as if it was just a simple observation.

Shepard raised an eyebrow, feeling the thick layer of dried blood, -that was still covering the left side of face,- crack.

"That makes us even, then.", she said dryly, bringing her omnitool near her mouth.

"Lawson, this is Shepard. _Torfan_. Stand down and unlock the hatch, I'm bringing in the guest. Over", Thereza ordered, slowly and clearly.

She had given clear instructions as soon as she had been handed the Normandy SR2. In case there was any possibilities of hostile boarding, the cockpit should go into lockdown. And a barricade should be erected at the other side of the hallway to protect the CIC and prevent any hostile to get further into the ship. 'Torfan' was the all clear signal of the duress code they established.

No answer came through the radio, but there was a soft hissing sound as the pressure in the hatch equalized with the one in the Normandy.

"We both want to do this the easy way.", Shepard stated, letting her arm drop and facing the Shadow. "You keep your hands in evidence and to yourself, no sudden move or any funny thoughts. You'll be escorted to the infirmary where you'll be patched up. Then we'll talk. I'll answer your questions if you answer mine. If you're part of the UNSC, we're on the same side so no need for further violence. Are we clear?"

The only answer Shepard got was a sharp and short nod. But that was also all she needed.

She walked out of the hatch first but spun to keep the man in her field of view. Doing so, Shepard stepped backward inside the hallway that connected the locked cockpit and barricaded CIC. She glanced briefly on her left. The barricade has been moved half out of the way. Next to it, there was Jacob Taylor and Miranda Lawson. They both carried their rifle but were holding them down. The two of them were wearing their combat suit, but only Jacob still had his helmet on. And, behind the barricade and half hidden by Jacob, Thereza was able to spot Dr. Chakwas.

Shepard turned her eyes back to the Shadow and motioned him to start moving.

Showing no sign of hesitation or worry, he stepped forward and into the hallway. With a brief glance to his left then right, he seemed to assert the situation and started moving forward to the barricade. He kept his long strides slow, his hands were down but he was showing his palm. Shepard took her place just to his left, a step behind.

On the other side of the hallway, Jacob and Miranda shared a glance before starting to step forward. Jacob first, in the middle of the hallway. He was still carrying his rifle, but holding it with the canon pointing down and his open face helmet showed a serious expression. Behind him, Miranda stowed her weapon on her back but kept her hand carefully close to her handgun.

Dr. Chakwas was following a couple of meters behind the two soldiers.

"This is operative Taylor and Lawson. They will escort you to the infirmary." Shepard informed. "And this is Dr. Charkwas. She is the ship's medical personnel. You can trust her skills. She'll be the one who'll examine you."

"And you too, Commander.", the doctor spoke up from her position on the back of the group.

Shepard clenched her teeth and sent a long look toward the doctor. The Commander had better things to do and was perfectly able to apply some medigel herself. Of course, she would go for a check-up to the infirmary. Later, after all this situation was resolved. But now she had to show unity and not undermine the doctor's authority. So she nodded, keeping a serious expression.

"Then lead the way doctor.", Thereza said with an even tone, motioning her toward the elevator.

A small smile of victory graced Chakwas' lips as she turned around and walked away. Miranda followed suit, then Jacob. Shepard noticed that Jacob was only carrying his rifle. It was unusual for him, but good in this situation. The Shadow would not be able to steal any of his weapons like he did for Garrus. Even if Shepard doubted he would try something like that, she preferred to be safe than sorry.

They arrived at the CIC and Shepard could see that it was running with close to minimal crew. Everyone was tense, -which was understandable,- and the Commander's keen eyes spotted a handgun on each of them. All except one.

"Chambers! Come to me.", Shepard called and ordered.

The yeoman sharply flinched then hastily scurried toward her commanding officer.

"Y-yes Commander.", she stammered.

Kelly Chambers trotted across the CIC. She stopped a meter or so from the Commander and snapped at attention. Only then, she was able to observe and comprehend Shepard's state to the fullest. From afar, she was like the others, her armour was smeared with soot, and scratches. Without helmet, her deep auburn hair fell freely on each side of her face, a bit uneven. However, once closer, Kelly had to fight back a gasp. The Commander's face instantly caught her attention. The left side of Shepard's face was mostly covered in dried blood, from her eyebrow down to her neck. There was even some drops on her broken chest plate. Despite her state, the look in her piercing blue eyes remained the same. Serious and determined. Holding a strange kind of fascinating fire.

Shepard returned her salute and Kelly started to follow her as the group walked at brisk pace toward the elevator.

"I want the whole team ready for debriefing in the communication room in thirty minutes.", Shepard started giving out orders. "After the debriefing, I want talk to The Illusive Man."

Kelly winced and her strides slowed down for a couple of steps. Thereza noticed it and knew the reason behind it. The yeoman never directly talked to The Illusive Man. For her there was still the mystical aura surrounding this man commanding and controlling a huge paramilitary organisation from the shadow. He didn't take orders, neither calls. He made them.

But Shepard didn't really care for it. She needed to talk to the man, and trusted Chambers to make it happen.

The elevator was already there when the group arrived in front of it.

"Then find me the largest fatigues and bring them to the infirmary. And my uniform.", Shepard finished.

It was only then, as the group stepped into the elevator, that Kelly noticed him. Dr. Chakwas stepped in first, followed by the two Cerberus operatives. And then, the Shadow stepped in, standing between the two soldiers. As they had been walking, Kelly had her attention completely focused on the Commander, her state and her orders, while the Shadow discreetly walked in front of her. And now, the yeoman wondered how it was possible for her to have missed him. Standing at about the same height as Garrus while being bulkier, he was apparently able to remain discreet and keep his footsteps light, practically silent.

Kelly blinked a few times and looked at the stranger up and down. She couldn't deny she was feeling impressed and slightly scared by his ominous appearance. However, something in the corner of her vision caught her attention in the middle of her gawking. Piercing blue eyes framed by different shade of red. She hastily turned her body and attention to Shepard who was currently waiting for an answer, her finger hovering over the elevator's button.

"Debriefing, call to the Illusive Man and clothes.", Kelly shortly summarized with a light but sure voice.

"Good.", Shepard simply said with a nod as she was sure the yeoman understood her orders. Her tone was tense but she managed not to sound impatient.

The Commander pressed the button to send the elevator down and as soon as the door slid closed, she turned her head toward Miranda.

"Lawson," Shepard started, being more formal than she would normally be. But with the unknown variable that still was the Shadow, she had to be careful. Thereza knew the Cerberus operative was listening as she too turned her head. "I want status report of the ship, squad, and crew on my omnitool. Then you double check the encrypting on Cerberus databases and the authorizations. We've got the convict on board and I don't want her to go snooping around in them. And I want an explanation about the communication problem _before_ the debriefing."

Miranda kept a straight face and just like Kelly did, shortly summarized the order she was given.

As the elevator stopped, and the door slid open, Thereza stepped out first. She sent Miranda to her office and took Jacob with her to escort the Shadow. Just as before, Dr. Chakwas led the way, to the infirmary. There, Shepard noticed, the crew, or rather the lack of them. Apparently the whole mess hall has been vacated.

Shepard nodded to herself as she noticed the extra security. The crew should have been split to defend the main gun, engines, and life support.

As the group stepped into the infirmary, Dr. Chakwas turned around and studied her two future patients. As the Shadow was still completely covered in black fabric, she set her eyes on him first.

"Do you have any wounds on your head or chest?", she inquired, having no other easy and quick way to know.

"None critical.", was the simple answer she received and nothing more.

With a light frown, she then turned to the Commander.

"I'm taking care of you first then, Commander.", she said, wanting to first take care of the one with the most grievous looking wound.

The Shadow was led to the back of the infirmary by Jacob. The Cerberus operative was still holding his gun and staying at a safe distance from the 'guest'. The Shadow remained calm and impassive. The Commander hoped that just like her, he understood that it was a necessary precaution. At least he didn't protest in any way, apparently keen of having information 'the easy way'.

Shepard went to stand beside the hospital bed and started the procedure to remove her armour as the doctor began to pull the curtains to hide them from prying eyes. The heavy ceramic platings stayed in place but unlocked from each others. Suddenly Thereza felt like the weight of combat hard-suit press on her shoulders, appearing several times heavier than before, now that the exoskeleton had gone off-line. She was about to remove her chest plate when Dr. Chakwas eventually stopped in front of her.

"Sit down.", the doctor ordered with a motherly tone, but her voice held a slight mischievous hint.

Dr. Chakwas had worked most of her life with soldiers, and some fresh out of the battlefield, still in their battle hard-suit. Then, before the Commander could object anything, the Doctor simply shoved her lightly toward the bed. The real weight working against Shepard, she heavily sat down on the hospital bed without resisting but throwing a long look at the doctor nonetheless. Instead, Thereza started removing the hard-suit on her arms and hands as Chakwas observed the wound on her head.

Her hands already clad in new, clean latex gloves, the doctor lightly and delicately probed the side of Shepard's head. Using a hairclip, the doctor clamped up some blood soaked strands to better expose the wounds. Chakwas was professional enough not to make any negative comments or remarks about the state of her patient, no matter their state, except if they asked her. At that point, she would tell them the truth, with a soft tone but devoid of any half-truths and without beating around the bush.

In her case, the Commander didn't had to ask anything but rather observed the doctor's expression. Serious, like every-time she was taking care of somebody, but her frown was a plain giveaway of how bad the wound looked and how close Shepard had been to a critical trauma.

"We're going to clean these a bit." She eventually informed.

She dipped a cloth in a water filled basin and opened a bottle of medical alcohol, and prepared some small tweezers.

Shepard nodded slightly then stayed silent and still as the blood was wiped away from her forehead and temple. The motions were light and delicate as not to worsen her injury.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?", Chakwas asked, keeping her eyes on her work.

"Doc..." Shepard started ready to protest, then closed her eyes as some water started to trickle down her face. "My neck and right hand are sore and I got a bad hit on the left side of my chest." She eventually answered in a whisper. "Let's just do that nice and quick."

The Commander didn't get any answer to that, but she didn't press the doctor knowing her and her temperament. Shepard had to stifle a wince as a cotton imbued with alcohol was applied against her wound to disinfect it. She breathed deeply as the burning sensation quickly sunk in before receding slowly.

"How did you sleep lately?", Chakwas asked, half to keep the commander's mind off the pain, but also to actually know the answer.

"Well enough…", Shepard answered, doing her best to keep the dry edge off her voice.

Since she 'came back to life', her nights were filled with nightmares or rather memories. When the first Normandy went down, she had been thrown out into space, but she only remembered berating and sending Joker away in a rescue pod. After that, nothing, just bright flashes in red or blue, feeling like she was trying to remember a dream.

But when she closed her eyes to sleep, it was greatly different. The flashes were becoming more vivid, turning into images of fire and ice. But more than images, it was the biting cold or the burning inferno that was the worse. In her combat suit, unable to move she was feeling claustrophobic while conscious she was lost in an infinite space. And the constant vertigo, the sensation of falling added to the nightmare until she finally woke up.

And that was when she actually managed to fall asleep.

"I have medicine that can help you with that, Shepard. Sleeping pills and the like.", Chakwas said with a light, but scolding voice.

Bit by bit, she was pulling out the scraps of the helmet that was still embedded in the Commander's skin. Thankfully the spot has been numbed either by the medigel or the pain so Shepard only felt some light pull each time she removed a fragments of polymer or metal.

"I told you that I don't like them." Shepard answered, still in a whisper, but making her displeasure know through the tone of her voice. "They make me sleepy."

"That's what they're supposed to do.", Chakwas answered. Even if she heard Shepard's tone, she was also quite adamant nearly scolding and didn't want to drop the issue just yet.

"I prefer to be tired than sleepy. Or asleep and unable to wake up if needed.", Shepard declared flatly, meeting Dr. Chakwas eyes with a significant look in her own.

Chakwas held the gaze for a few instants then looked away with a small nod, not saying anything after that.

Soon the smaller wounds were also cleaned and disinfected. The doctor swiftly applied fresh medigel, cleanly sealing all the wounds. For good measure, she added a press on the largest laceration and warped bands around Shepard's head.

The examination of the Commander's hand was quick. There was a large bruise on her fingers and knuckles but no bone was damaged and the skin wasn't scraped. So all it needed was some medigel on the articulation, bands and rest. And it was the same for her bruised neck, medigel, bands and rest.

By that time, Shepard managed to remove the hard-suit's protective plaques on her arms and chest. So as the doctor moved back and started typing on her omnitool, the Commander stood up and removed her back's protective plating. She laid it on the bed next to her in neat order. The damaged pieces separated from the others and in a way that it would be easy to pick them up. Glancing to the doctor, Thereza noticed she was performing some scans on her. Or trying to as she was looking down at her omnitool with a displeased expression. Shepard then took the time to quickly remove the plating on her legs.

All in all, it was relatively easy and fast to unlock and remove the hardsuit, compared to the pain it was to pass it on, connect each segments, and lock them in place.

Shepard was now standing in her bodysuit and as Dr. Chakwas was still struggling with her omnitool. So Thereza sat down and started to open it.

"Still no success with the scan?", Shepard asked rhetorically.

Each time Chakwas had tried to scan Shepard's vitals, her omnitool had returned either garbage data or a 'no subject detected' error. And nothing she had done had improved the results in any significant way or margin. She had deduced that one of the Commander's cybernetic augmentations was jamming the scanner. This, of course, had caused some trouble on the battlefield as Shepard's suit wasn't truly able to keep track of her vitals, having to rely on basic information such as heartbeat, breathing rate and body temperature.

"I downloaded the latest software but still nothing…", Chakwas answered with a shake of her head. "If only Miss Lawson would allow me to see these files…"

The doctor didn't finish her sentence and looked up. Shepard was already seated on the bed with the bodysuit opened and partially removed to expose her upper body. She made a slight face as she lifted her arm to expose her side. She was only wearing a sport bra. Not the most comfortable thing to wear, but certainly the most practical. Even without moving her bra, the doctor was able to see the large red and slightly blueish bruise spreading on the side of Shepard's chest with the darkest spot located on her floating ribs.

"I guess it hurts and pulls when you breath.", Chakwas said lowly and started to lightly probe the Commander's side, following the ribs and checking for any crack while keeping an eye out for any reaction signalling greater pain.

"Less than before." Shepard admitted, keeping a straight face. "Is it as bad as it looks?"

"It will hurt for a while, but I don't think you have anything broken. You're as tough as your legends say.", the doctor concluded with a light joke but even though she wasn't able to hide her surprise well. "But it'll take a while to heal though, so try not to overwork yourself.", she advised with a light voice, as if she wasn't asking for something impossible.

The doctor injected a bit of medigel into the muscles to help them heal faster and stepped back, nodding at the commander to signal her the treatment was done.

"Thanks Doc.", Shepard simply answered before hoping down the table, and passed the bodysuit back on.

A few moment prior, they both had heard the door opening and Kelly Chambers bringing the clothes Shepard ordered and a fresh uniform for Shepard herself. So Chakwas shortly disappeared to fetch it and brought it back before going for good to take care of her second patient.

"Your turn to be taken care of.", Shepard heard the doctor announce.

Keeping an ear out for what is said, Shepard tuned out most of the small talk. And anyway Dr. Chakwas was keeping her voice low enough so that she was barely able to make out what was said.

With precise and quick movements, Thereza got dressed in her black and white official looking uniform. It was in Cerberus' colour, but that didn't bother the Commander. In fact, she preferred it that way as it displayed unity with and among the crew. And the uniform itself looked like the officer suit from the alliance directly signalling her as the commanding officer. Bringing her apart from the other members of the ship as no one else was wearing this kind of uniform. However, she had Chambers work extra hours to remove the insignias on the chest and long sleeves of each of the uniform of her wardrobe.

She kept her bodysuit under her uniform as it provided some kind of protection. Just in case. Thankfully its integrity hadn't been compromised by the shot she received in the hip.

Once clad, she adjusted her leg holster and slid Garrus' Carniflex in, along with her knife. Armed and protected, she then felt slightly less naked than if she was only wearing the uniform. Even if the flexibility of the uniform was a blessing compared to the stiffness of the hard-suit.

Eventually, she took one of the empty metallic tray and held it in front of herself, using it as a mirror.

Shepard stared back into deep blue eyes for a few instant, then studied her face. She used the wet cloth to wipe and clean the remaining blood on the left of her face and her neck. She also combed her hair down correctly and doing so got rid of the bands around her head. Now her wounds were exposed and she was finally able to observe them. Just like she had felt earlier, there was a thin cut beginning over her eyebrow and ending over her ear. The wound looked clean and straight, strangely so at first, but not illogical when Shepard thought about it. The smallest ones were nothing impressive or to be worried about and hadn't bled that much.

Carefully and lightly, she ran her fingers over them. The medigel was doing its work, sealing them perfectly, but also numbing the pain and helping it to heal quicker. In a couple of day, there should be only a little scar left, barely visible. Her fingertips slid down further, around her eye and along her jaw. There, there were other scars. Scars that no medigel would fix and would only worsen with time -if Chakwas was to be believed-. Scars brought out by her pale skin. Some small, some large, some deeper than others, and sometime with a faint crimson red glow in their depth.

The Commander eventually used a bit of water to try and clean the blood off her hair. Then, before walking out, she checked her appearance one last time. She looked sharp and serious. Even if her hair could use a good washing, they didn't look messy and were cleanly combed down. The blood has been washed from her face. Her uniform was clean and straight. Pleased and decided, she spread and opened the curtain that was hiding her from the other occupants of the infirmary.

Shepard's eyes fell directly on the Shadow. He had his back half turned to her for now, still clad nearly completely in dark clothes, except now from his hands and forearms. Shepard frowned slightly. His hands were nearly completely bandaged, but she was still able to see burned and charred skin. The doctor first injected some medi-gel into a deeper layer of his skin then applied an other dose of it onto the burns before covering the whole with bandages.

Thereza tore her eyes from him and turned to Jacob Taylor who was still standing next to the entrance of the infirmary. His features were barely visible and he was still motionlessly standing with his rifle, but the Commander could tell he was tense.

"Taylor, you can leave us. Take my hardsuit to my quarter and have the damaged parts repaired in first priority." Shepard ordered with a strict voice.

Jacob snapped a salute -which was quickly returned- and soon walked out of the infirmary, without a word.

Then, Shepard turned back toward the matter at hand, the main source of her current worries.

"How did you get these burns?", she asked the Shadow, walking toward him.

He slightly tilted his head toward her.

"The station was on fire.", was his simple and evident answer.

Shepard managed not to roll her eyes or sigh. Of course the station was on fire. She had expected some details on how he got burned and even more and better, on how he escaped his cell. But understanding she wouldn't get anything more, she dropped the issue and turned her eyes toward Chakwas. The doctor had a weary and displeased look in her eyes and Shepard guessed that in their whisperings, the Shadow's answers had been just as short and elusive. She nonetheless calmly finished the bandages and took a step back.

"It looked worse than it actually was. Apply fresh medi-gel every 6 hours, and your hands will be healed in 2 to 3 days.", Chakwas informed him. "Now remove those clothes so I shall have a look at those 'lesser wounds' and I will check for broken bones or internal bleeding too while I'm at it."

"No scanning or sampling.", the Shadow said.

His voice carried a natural authority. As such that his words didn't sound like a demand or even an order but rather like facts.

Chakwas turned around, frowning and ready to scold her patient.

"That's alright, Doc.", Shepard soothed her with a firm voice, raising her hand as to halt any protest.

Chakwas sighed and shook her head before going to take her stethoscope and change her gloves. While she was doing so, the Shadow carefully but methodically shed his clothes. Apparently his left hand was more severely burnt than the right, but he still managed surprising dexterity and mobility. Soon, what acted as his shirt was on the nearby bed, eventually leaving his chest and face bare.

Shepard frowned slightly but otherwise remained expressionless as she carefully examined him. Well-built and toned but surprisingly lean for the strength he displayed. His skills were a clear proof that this body wasn't just for show. And the state of his skin was a further testimony of it. Scarred to a point that Shepard rarely witnessed. Burns, large bullets' wounds, large cuts with burn marks around them, small clusters of cuts –the kind of wounds shrapnel would have done-. Now his chest bore a large bruise, shaped like the butt of a Claymore shotgun. And the bruise itself was over a scar, covering most of his chest. A scar coming from a not so old burn. Another bruise was on his jaw, slightly larger than Shepard's fist. And on his right arm, across the inner side of his biceps, there was a large cut, not really deep by the look of it, but still bleeding a bit.

Shepard knew that her knife never connected while they had been fighting. It wasn't some kind of sore, stubborn denial on her part. She spend years learning and practicing. Using her skills in real combat situations. She was sure that her knife never connected. The cut was too clean to have been done by some scraps on his way out. And from his answer earlier in the airlock, there was only one explanation left. He had been lucky enough to have one of Shepard's shot pass between his arm and chest and only 'lightly grazing' his skin.

The Man stayed silent as he lifted his arm to expose his wound, and stayed motionless as Charkwas treated him.

His face looked ageless. It for sure wasn't youthful but still didn't show any sign of age. His brown hair was cut short, in one of the strictest military buzz cut, with no sign of grey. His skin was also marked with a few, light scars and appeared rough around his eyes and on his cheeks. His eyes however seemed to show his real age. They were blue, but not in an uncommon or particular shade. Just normal blue. And in them, Shepard didn't see some kind of reflection of the Man's life, or a gateway to his thoughts and secrets. What Shepard saw and noticed was the methodical way he observed and inspected her.

The holster on her leg, her hands, then the collar and shoulders of her suit, and eventually her face now that it was well lit.

In other words

Her weapons _-a knife and a powerful handgun-_ , her degree of readiness _–her hand was behind her back in a casual rest position, however the straps holding her both weapons on the holster were undone-_ , her grade and affiliation _–unfortunately there was no indication of it on Shepard's uniform-_ , and her state of mind.

At least it was how Shepard imagined him thinking right now.

But it didn't surprise her. She expected that kind of thought process from any competent soldier. What was interesting and telling was what she didn't see. Confusion, surprise, worry.

 _Confusion_ because the whole crew structure and behaviour was telling 'military' -and Shepard was nearly screaming it- but the apparel and appearance wasn't. _Surprise_ at the sight of the strange scars around Shepard's left eye and on her jaw, scars with faint red glow at the bottom of them. _Worry_ , because he was unarmed and outnumbered and Shepard was ready to react if anything went bad.

These were absent in his eyes. Eyes that should most probably already have seen too much.

And as he levelled his stare on Shepard, locking his eyes with her, she held it without looking away. A lesser person would have looked down or stepped back. Even more so as Shepard's slender frame looked ridiculous and frail in comparison to his. But the Commander stood unmoving and silent, letting the doctor work while keeping her attention on the Man. His eyes had caught her attention, but his scars had done it first.

Not any scars,- even if Shepard was sure there was a story and a battle behind each,- but a very particular set of scars. They were faded and old, most probably among the older ones, yet still obviously thin and precise. Surgically precise one could even say. That and also a strange metal plaque or interface port behind his head, just at the base of his cranium. Thereza had had some suspicions about them, and the Man's last demand confirmed them. And that only added more on the list of her worries and problems.

It didn't take long for Chakwas to finish treating him. She was clearly displeased as she had to examine him the 'old way'. Probing for broken bones or irregular pain. Listening for the heartbeat and breathing, and some basic tests to check for brain damage. At the end, even if it was half-hearted and accompanied with a long look toward Shepard, Charwas declared him 'clear'.

"Thanks Doc. How about you go take a coffee and some rest.", Shepard proposed, breaking eye contact with the Man to look at the doctor. First because she saw how tired the doctor looked after having taken care of five patients in less than an hour. But also because she wanted to talk privately with their new guest.

"Of course, Commander.", the older woman answered and walked toward the door.

From behind, Shepard could clearly see her relax as she was approaching the hatch. Before the hatch opened, Shepard looked back at the Man. He was still standing at the same spot and had assumed a resting position, out of habit most likely.

There was a tense silence as the two occupants of the infirmary stared at each other, unmoving in matching stance.

"I will answer to your question to the best of my capacity." Shepard eventually spoke up. "But first, you have to answer mine."

"Understood.", the Man said with a small, almost unnoticeable nod.

"Who are you?"

"That's classified."

Shepard sighed slowly. It wasn't much better of an answer than 'none of your concern'.

"Where do you come from?", the Commander asked further.

"That's classified."

"How did you end up in prison?"

"I don't know.", he answer, his tone just as flat.

At last a real answer. An answer she could rely on. If it was classified, he would have answered this question just like the two previous ones. Even if it wasn't giving her much more information than she already had.

"I'm Commander Thereza Shepard. Ex officer in the Alliance, ex Spectre of the Citadel's Counsel. I'm now working with Cerberus on a critical mission. And I'm the commanding officer of this ship.", Shepard said, properly presenting herself, and leaving some hints for him to pick up, for later.

"Now, this is what I already know about you. Tell me when I get wrong.", Thereza proposed.

She wasn't getting anything so she decided to switch the direction of the discussion.

"You're a soldier, a good one, from UNSC. With high quality training. And…", she motioned to the thin scars on his limbs. "…augmented. Physically, genetically. And quite extensive. You spent some times in this prison, most likely in cryo-stasis."

As she expected, there was no reaction whatsoever from her interlocutor. She could have said that he was actually a plumber, Shepard didn't think he would have objected.

"Now, what I'm not sure about but is highly probable. You're special force, which spells special training. From a young age judging from the state of those scars. So I'll assume that you volunteered at 16. Since then you have been into some actual engagements, even a lot of them. No one got those kind of scars from training alone. Except if you're the unluckiest person that ever lived.", Shepard stopped for an instant, thinking. "Also special force, special training, but mainly special augmentation mean that you cost. A lot. Either you're one of a kind, but I doubt it. So small number of highly efficient soldiers. You spent most of your time either in spaceship or in a hardsuit, away from any stars."

The Man blinked, waiting impassively. And Shepard kept a serious face, doing her best to keep irritation out of her features and voice.

"'Where' is not that relevant actually. Some secret facilities on a planet, moon, or asteroid. You're UNSC, so you're from one of the colonies that got cut from Earth at the end of the Covenant war."

Shepard stopped once again. She was getting no reaction from the Man, but didn't expect any. However, she was getting into some delicate matters.

"The UNSC, at least what remained of them on earth, has been disbanded.", she declared, quite bluntly watching closely for reaction on the Man's face. "Replaced soon after by the System Alliance."

"When?", he asked, his voice even but his feature betraying some kind of surprise and an hint of disbelief.

"At the beginning of the year 2553. After the end of the Covenant war."

Now there was clear disbelief and suspicion on the Man's eyes and tension in his body.

"What is the date of the last news you got from Earth.", Shepard asked, hoping that kind of information wasn't classified. At some point in time, his colony was cut from the Earth. That's the only explanation for him asking about UNSC. Asking about the precise date would tell her how much he missed from the history of Earth.

"17th November 2552."

That was a precise date. Maybe too precise. And that instantly put Shepard on guard, making her at least as suspicious as he was. But that passed quickly. At first, she had expected an earlier date. A few months or years earlier, at the moment when whatever place he was from decided to go silent, to hide. But 17th of November was actually a logical date. The date when all communications coming from Earth stopped. The day that lead to the end of the war.

"You obviously missed a couple of things since that date. I'm no historian, but I can give you a rough run down of the events that happened since then." Shepard proposed, holding out her omnitool and tapping a few keys then glanced up at him.

Once again, for all answer, she received a nod. A different one this time though as he was still clearly suspicious.

Shepard pressed a key and an image of a sphere appeared above her palm. As large as a bowling ball, with more blue than any other colour. It has strange shape on it with jagged edges. The shapes were mainly green, yellow-brown or white. Two of these shapes were completely white. It was slowly rotating.

"Earth, as it was on the 1st of October 2552, a few weeks before the Covenants arrived.", Shepard explained. "By that time, it was the last human planet still fighting. The other either had already fallen, glassed, or gone silent, hoping to hide from the Covenants."

The Man looked down at it an indescribable look in his eyes. The image changed, showing the same Earth with one tiny difference. There was a spot, in the east of Africa that looked ablaze.

"This is on the 1st of November same year. The Covenant landed on New Mombasa. Only on there. No one knows why. But still, we weren't able to push them back."

Shepard took a deep breath, glancing up toward the man before continuing.

"On 17th of November, a Forerunner artifact was activated by some scientists on Mars. This is the Earth on 18th of November."

The image changed once again. It was the Earth, but it was unrecognizable. In this state, it was barely possible to distinguish the continents if one didn't know where they were supposed to be. The African continent had lost its colours. The dry brown of the Sahara, atop of the lively green at the equator, all was gone, replaced by hot shades of oranges and reds and dark clouds. The continent was ablaze. So was more than half Asia, -the southern part-, most of Europe and America. More than half of the habitable surface of the Earth, gone, three quarter of the lands, gone, some bodies of water, gone. Gone. Burnt. Glassed.

Along with the billions of lives that had been helpless to react as plasma like the fire of hell had rained onto them from the sky. Leaving nothing of them, not even ashes.

Shepard noticed the Man become tenser, his stand stiffer. She looked down at the image. The scarred sorry state of humanity's home at the end of the war.

Several times, Shepard had wondered. What would she have been able to do if she had been there? Would she have been able to stop Earth from being attacked? Would she have won the war and became a hero, a legend? Would she have died, fighting to the bitter end until she got vaporized. Would she have been able to make a difference? But at the end, she never had dwelt on these questions too much. She hadn't been there and the best she could do about that now, was to make sure she would be ready if the Covenants ever came back.

Until then, she had her own current threats to take care of. Collectors. Reapers. Despite having been made Spectre, dying and now working for a para-military organisation, she was still human. She would do whatever it takes to make humanity survive and prevail through whatever storm she was suffering and that has yet to come.

"This glassing wasn't hostile against human. It was selective. From a splinter group of the Covenant", the Man spoke up, keeping his tone serious and low. "To stop a deadly disease to spread over the whole planet."

At that, Thereza looked back up. It must have been the longest speech he ever gave her in one go. But it was obviously laced with secrecy. Carefully chosen words as to covey important information without disclosing classified details. But also something else. Not in his words, but rather his voice and posture. A tension that wasn't there before. Tenuous but still perceptible to the Commander's keen eyes and ears. Not the tension that was meant to be seen to signal disbelief or to display seriousness. But a tension that would arrive when one was trying -and in his case, succeeding quite well- to hide his emotions.

 _'Yes, obviously special force.'_ Thereza thought to herself, commending the man for his self control.

He must have lived all his life with no news from Earth or the state of the war. But right now, he was on her ship. So he was her responsibility. He was already a too volatile and unknown variable as it is. And she will have to do some careful information control later. So she decided to tell him the truth about the war. Past everything he thought he knew. She was confident he would be able to take it, even if he might need some time to accept it.

"The Separatist that helped us against the Covenants and the Flood?", Shepard asked, rhetorically.

The Man thought for an instant before giving a sharp nod. Apparently she already knew of it, so he didn't see any reason to keep retaining those information.

Shepard shook her head.

"They never existed.", she declared bluntly. "Neither of them. Or not in the form and shape you think. Disinformation. To buy us some time. In a large alliances like the Covenant, there is bound to be some groups whose beliefs are slightly different. Sometime they're small and don't pose any problems. Other times they're much larger, large enough to try to change things. Separatists, Heretics, whatever they are named. And the Covenants surveyed our communication channels quite closely. So we just had to forge evidences. Make the Separatist appear where they aren't, and disappear when they arrive. It was hard but proved to cause some confusion, making the Covenant destroy some of their own ships. Same goes for the Flood. Video montages, false reports. We tried using bio-weapons. It was actually some kind of plagues or very virulent rabies. We even managed to make them think we had super-soldiers, super-weapons, super-ships. That worked quite well as the Covenants seemed to focus where we wanted them to believe these soldiers were. But none of our tactics were as effective as we wanted them to be…"

Shepard paused for a moment, her eyes carefully trained on the Man.

He had stayed silent during her explanation, and hadn't even tried to speak up. However now, he seemed torn by confusion and incomprehension. He looked like he wanted to speak up, object to Shepard's explanation. She couldn't really blame him. If anyone came up and told her that most of what she had been taught about the Covenant war, -the biggest and most devastating war humanity ever had to endure- were lies, she too would have trouble believing it and, finding words to protest. After a moment of tense silence, Shepard deduced that either the Man couldn't find his words, or just didn't want to tell her.

"It was officially declared that the war has ended on the 18th of November.", Thereza continued, having no trouble remembering what she learned in her history class. "Halfway through glassing Earth, the Covenants suddenly stopped and tried to escape. Their slip-space portal went 'unstable' and we're still finding pieces and scraps of their ships all over the system."

Shepard pressed a few buttons on her omni-tool and the image of Earth disappeared, replaced by a strange, alien looking structure, like an elongated 'U' with several concentric rotating rings at the middle. And in the centre of them, a bright blue light.

"This is the Forerunner device discovered and activated on Mars. It is called a Mass Relay. This one is the Charon relay. At first, we thought it was just a defense mechanism as it prevented ships to go in or out of slip-space. Don't ask how, I don't know. But we soon discovered that it could also be used to travel huge distances, fast, through a network of such relays. Long story short, we had to adapt our technology -a lot- and after a few years and jumps, we ended up meeting Aliens. After the Covenants we were… cautious and wary. But they were not as aggressive. Or at least not bent on destroying humanity. So we conceded to some sacrifices and we were accepted in their community."

The Mass Relay disappeared and three figures replaced it. Three aliens, all dressed in nice and official clothes. A Turian, an Asari, and a Salarian.

"This is the counsel. Highest authority of the Citadel space.", informed Shepard, keeping any spite out of her voice. "The Citadel space regroup about half a dozen species of Alien, and more than forty planets."

A fourth figure appeared, this time it was a human.

"Lately, we gained a seat in the counsel. I assume you understand the implications and powers that comes with it.", Shepard said, this time with some pride in her voice. She however didn't say it was thanks to her. She was keeping that for later.

"What about Earth?", the Man demanded.

 _'Not a fan of politics…'_ , Shepard deduced. But it was only one of the possibilities. Another would simply have been the worry and concern of a human for his home world.

"We healed her the best we can…", she answered, showing him an image of the Earth nowadays.

The scars were still plainly visible. Barren patch of glassed earth and stone that reflected the Sun's light in an unnatural way.

"About, half of the glassed areas have been made habitable, cultivatable again. But it wasn't enough and wasn't made quick enough so. We needed more room."

More, smaller planets appeared, orbiting around the Earth.

"We managed to establish colonies beyond the Charon relay, in other systems. From that point, I let you do your own research. What you need to know is; we stood back up, however we could."

The Man slowly nodded and his eyes became lost, looking over Shepard's head, most likely processing the amount of information. Shepard knew she was leading the conversation so she allowed him about half a minute of quiet.

"What is today's date?" He asked flatly, looking into Shepard's eyes.

"12th February 2693." Shepard answered, her suspicion about him being in a cryopod confirmed.

And by the slight widening of his eyes and the drops of his square shoulders, she could also tell that he has been there for much longer than he thought. However, he soon regained his composure and chose not to comment, surely he would want to confirm this later on.

"What is 'olly olly oxen free'?", she eventually asked him, a part of her already knowing his answer.

"That's classified."

"It's a code. Most likely a code signifying you could trust me. You would never have given me your gun or stepped into the ship otherwise. Listened to me. Or even let me go. The question is; is it a code commonly used by the UNSC's Special Forces or just your squad?", Shepard said, making her question more precise.

"Still classified."

Shepard closed her eyes and sighed. He wasn't exactly playing along as she would have hoped, but at least he wasn't aggressive anymore.

"No one has heard of 'your' UNSC since the 17th November of 2552. So far as I know, Cerberus has no connection with the lost colonies or their government. But I'm also curious as how such a code arrived to them. Are they connected to the whole UNSC or just your squad." That was a rhetorical question as she was sure she wouldn't get any relevant answer from the man about that. "I'll be sure to get to the bottom of this matter."

To her words, the Man slowly nodded in a strange kind of understanding mixed with resignation.

"I need to know. I can use your skills for my mission. Are you willing to help? If not, that's alright, I'll drop you on the nearest System Alliance's station. No string attached."

 _'Come on, big guy, be curious.'_ , Shepard thought and suppressed a grin as he noticed the Man frown slightly.

"Is Cerberus part of the System Alliance?", he asked with a low serious voice.

"No, Cerberus is a para-military organization that operates outside of the influence of the Alliance and the counsel as not to be hindered by Aliens or their politics.", Thereza explained while ignoring the whole 'terrorist' thing and putting some more weight on the human supremacist side. If he was from the same UNSC that Shepard had learned about, that ought to speak to him.

"For instance; Human colonies are currently being attacked by hostile Aliens. All the colonists abducted. The counsel refuses to do anything about it. And that makes the System Alliance unable to act and defend them."

"Why did you leave the System Alliance?", was the Man next question and his voice seemed harder on this one.

Shepard had expected that kind of question and the tone he used only re-enforced what she thought of him. He was loyal. And he didn't seem to take well that she was no longer in the System alliance. Most likely thinking of her being some kind of rebel.

"I didn't leave.", Shepard answered with a stern voice. "Two years ago, my ship was attacked and destroyed. I was spaced and declared dead. Cerberus found me, patched me up. I woke up a couple of weeks ago. Since then, my mission had kept me too busy to go back to the Earth or the Citadel."

A look of understanding and maybe surprise –surprise at the fact she still lived- passed over the Man's feature, and Shepard assumed this answer was enough for him to be less wary and suspicious about her own loyalties.

"What is a Spectre?", the Man continued with his short, precise questions.

Shepard remained still with her hands back behind her back, her face severe. But he was showing interest or at least curiosity in her and her past, asking for further details on points she initially left hanging in her presentation. This proved Shepard that she was getting actual results and that he was considering the possibility of teaming with her.

"Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. They are a special elite task force constituted of chosen individuals, answering directly and only to the counsel. They have one primary objective; preserve galactic stability, at any cost and by any mean. I was the first human Spectre and played a significant part in us joining the Citadel's counsel." Shepard explain, once again with well-deserved pride lacing her words. "For further details, I'll send you my dossier. Just know that whatever I do, I do it for Humanity's best interest. Be it accepting to be a Spectre back then, working with Cerberus now, or asking you to join my team."

She used all the arguments she had to convince him, keeping this last one for now. As she had been taught, UNSC had always worked and fought for to protect Humanity as a whole. A glint of respect passed through the Man's eyes. Not admiration or idolization, like Shepard had usually received after defeating Saren and Sovereign and saving the galaxy, the Citadel and the counsel. Admiration and idolization from people that barely knew or understood her or what she had had to do to succeed. The respect in the Man's eyes did not come from having heard heroic tales of her legend. And seeing this, Shepard allowed her shoulders to relax a bit. From that point, she knew he was a lot less likely to attack her or try to take over the ship. Now as for taking him onto the mission…

"What is your mission?", he asked on the same grave tone.

…Shepard had managed to get him interested in that too.

"You remember the 'abducted colonist' problem I spoke about before? Cerberus operates out of the counsel's influence and does not suffer from the same political limitations than the Alliance.", Shepard stated without bitterness. "They chose me and gave me this ship, founds, equipment and personal. I am to investigate and solve this problem. But to do that, I first need a team of competent and skilled individuals. Now that you know everything you need to know, I go back to my original question; I'm on a mission to save human colonies and need a team. Will you be part of this team?"

Her tone was official and serious, carrying her natural authority. And once again, Shepard put pressure on the 'protect humanity' side of her mission. After all, it was one of her main motives to keep fighting.

The Man breathed in and opened his mouth to answer then abruptly stopped. He glanced down at Shepard's omnitool which was now no longer visible. He blinked a few times, a slight frown forming on his forehead. He then looked away, to a spot over Shepard's head.

"I need time to think about it.", he eventually declared in a low, slow voice.

"You have until I'm done talking with my hierarchy, after the debriefing.", Shepard announced, giving him a clear ultimatum.

And without a flinch or a blink, he nodded.

"You will take part of this debriefing." Shepard continued. She wanted him to participate so that in the case he decided to join, she would not have to do the presentations twice. "However, you are not to talk about the UNSC, under any circumstances. Same goes for your training, augmentations, colonies, or missions. Am I clear?"

She stressed the last part with her most serious voice and expression. Normally she would have ordered him to remain silent. But as he wasn't in the System Alliance and that technically she wasn't either, rank authority would not help her. But her natural authority proved to be enough as she received once again a simple nod.

"Glad you get to agree on that.", Shepard answered.

She was about to leave to prepare the debriefing after taking a large glass of water. But there was still something she needed to know. Normally it shouldn't have been a problem. However in this situation, she was already feeling a headache forming, simply by thinking about it. Nonetheless, Thereza wasn't able to find a better way to ask it, so she decided to go straight to the point.

"I still don't know: What is your name?"

"Classified.", he answered right away.

Shepard clenched his teeth and suppressed a sigh. This was getting really old, really fast. Still, she heard something his the man's voice that she couldn't precisely place. Special force, trained for dangerous mission. The Commander could imagine all kinds of different situations that would request someone to keep his name hidden. She understood that very well and decided not to press further. She took a deep calming breath as she felt tension grow along her spine and limbs.

"Then for the sake of convenience, how shall we call you?", Shepard asked with a flat tone, forcing herself to keep a flat tone and an expressionless face.

The Man thought for a moment, his eyes once again lost over Shepard's head. And as she waited, to keep her mind off some unpleasant thought, she amused herself by imagining calling him 'Classified'. For the sake of irony.

Eventually, after a dozen seconds of deep thinking, the Man looked down at Shepard, a decided look obvious in his eyes.

"1-1-7"

* * *

So here it is!

First of all, I know the delay between chapters are huge. I had a lot on my plate, a master thesis being one of them. Anyway, from now on, I should be able to write more. But you know how the saying goes about 'battleplans'...

 **Answer to the reviews**

 _I don't hate, only the unloved hate. The unloved and the unnatural..._

I decided to place the answers at the end and namely after the reveal of the Shadow's identity. As many of you had already guessed, it was S-177, our beloved Master Chief.

 **N1F3 :**

Yes indeed. Funny thing is outside of the halo lore, I had no idea what it meant until I wrote this fic and did some research. Thanks Wikipedia!

 **New R2D2 :**

Do not worry, if I decide to stop this story, I'll make sure to warn the readers. But I have no plan of stopping this story anytime soon, even if the updates are slow.

Thanks for the compliments. There will be a comment about Shepard further ahead But as you said, I don't intend to make her under-powered. Concerning how Chief got in the Purgatory, I can't tell you yet, but there's some hints in the second chapter.

Concerning the end, there will also be a _note_ further ahead. But in short, I intend to go all the way through the end.

 **Kifo Sotri :**

Thanks. I will try to do my best, but unfortunately sometime my best is not enough...

 **Scottusa1 :**

Thanks, I will try to keep it that way !

 **HaywireEagle :**

I am currently playing Mass Effect 2 again (I kinda lost count of how many times I finished it...). But this time with all the DLCs. So at least, I'll be able to judge their quality.

And concerning the part with Cortana; I'm glad you liked it! And that it had the desired impact and effect.

 **Guest :**

Some people thinks like you. I'll just answer yes she can. For further details, see the _note_ down below.

 **The Russian Bear :**

Thanks. Normally from now on, I 'should have' more time, but I also take a lot of time to write, and check the chapter, so no promise unfortunately.

 **Gbav115 :**

Thanks !

 **Kurogane7 :**

Thanks !

For the grammar, the only thing I can say is my beta and I are doing the best we can.

Concerning the fight, I'll simply say that you underestimate Shepard. For further details, see the _note_ below.

 **JimmyTender :**

Thanks ! And don't worry, even if it'll take a lot of time, I plan to finish this story.

I'm glad you enjoy my writing style. I'm doing my best to keep this quality. Concerning Chief 'rescue' there are some little hints in chapter 2 and tiny hints at the end of chapter 3.

 **Delta :**

I won't lie, you almost got me with that.

I had to watch the scene several times to get all the details. Also the same jetpacks were used by the Spartans in the opening sequence of the game. So even more evidences that it can be integrated to the MJOLNIR.

So I'm going to go with the 'he doesn't have it' and 'wow effect'.

If we follow the game cinematic, Spartan II should have these jetpack integrated in their suit from before Halo CE. And I can cite several dozen instance where such jetpacks would have been too useful to be ignored by the Master Chief. The Library anybody? For example at the end of the first level of Halo 4. A quick, short thrust and he's off collision course.

So the official answer will be: He got it on the Infinity and it is not standard issue on the MJOLNIR. Or it is an armor ability that he picked up.

'Wow effect'; because it simply looks awesome.

 **Now for the notes :**

Alright, that is going to take a while. First of all, remember this; _I don't hate, only the unloved hate. The unloved and the unnatural..._ I love you all. The reviewers, the ones who send me PM, the ones who follows, favorites, and of course all those who read my story, enjoy it and stay silent. For those who stay silent, I know you exist, and I'm writing for you too. I have nothing against staying silent, and simply leaning back to enjoy the story.

So what will follow is against no one. I say it with no ill will, quite the contrary. I will say it for you, for me, for us, for everybody. Because it has to be said.

Alright, let's go :

Grammar :

My beta and I are doing our best for that. I know that even thought, this is not perfect, there is still some mistakes here or there. So from now on, any comment/review/message about the grammar that does not include some corrections will be ignored. Non-negotiable.

Shepard and the suspension of disbelief.

' _You can fight like a Krogan, run like a leopard, but you'll never be better than Commander Shepard.'_ (Miracle of Sound, Commander Shepard. Go listen to it if you don't know it.)

Shepard is a beast. In the game, he/she is the best humanity has to offer. N7 training is not a summer camp. He/she can fight off the influence of an Ardat-Yakshi, and survive the message from the Prothean. He/she is shown throwing a krogan. Etc, etc..

So he/she is not a grunt. Far from it, he/she is a competent, trained, hardened soldier.

Of course I know the Master Chief is better. Of course I know his training, augmentation and field records are better.

So, to those saying that Master Chief would have won earlier, I will ask this; Did you read the chapter ?

First of all. I have the feeling that some of you wanted the Master Chief to arrive, say a one-liner, lightly tap Shepard on the forehead to knock her out and pause for the camera. I won't address that...

The thing is, in the chapter, Master Chief wanted her ALIVE. He knows that if he hits people too hard, they DIE. He hit her once and expected her to stay down and was actually surprise that she got back up. Taking someone alive is a lot harder that killing him outright. And at the end, he still won. Isn't that enough ?

Second point, Shepard is not a 'harmless, defenseless baby seal'.

Point 2.5; Curb-stomp stories are a lot of fun to read. And undoubtedly fun to write. I understand why there is so much of these kind of fics in this section, and I read some of them with pleasure. Unfortunately, this fic is not one of them.

Now a really important point for all who says 'that's not possible' (or any and all variation of it) concerning any events of any of my stories. What you have to understand is; I am God. The beginning and the end, alpha and omega. I created God and Gods and all reality, and everything that exist and doesn't exist. I rule over all the Creation and all creations. Within and outside the Verse. My mind perceives everything that was, is and will be. That is the power I received when I started this fic. And I have only one duty and one rule coherence.

So, megalomania aside, stop saying 'that's not possible'. It happened so it is possible. So start asking _why_ and _how_ was it possible ?

Because there is always a coherent explanation.

'Why and how was Shepard able to fight and hold up to Master Chief ?'

That's what those who said that it 'wasn't possible' should have asked instead. And, you know what ? I will tell you something else; I already answered that question. Yes I did, in chapter 2 and 3, and there are even more answers in this chapters.

But of course, they are a bit hidden.

And of course, some answer might not come right away. If there are mysteries established in one chapter maybe, just maybe, the answers might come in further chapters. So it sometime normal to not understand. You don't have to panic. Just lean back, relax and enjoy the ride.

Fusion and bet

Alright, so now you know. I decided to fuse the Halo and Mass Effect universe. I know it's a risky bet. I know I'm not the first one to do it. I will do my best to bring something new to it.

They are a lot of point that are still in the dark. Lots of point that are not yet explained. They will be, don't worry. Just lean back and enjoy a bit of mistery.

Furthermore, as a 'side note', the fact that Halo-vers and ME-verse were fused was already declared in the very first chapter. Remember when Shepard mentioned a 'Covenant destroyer' ?

Yes, that's the kind of hints that I leave in my chapters.

I won't go into further details for now. Just like said in the chapter :

-Mass Relays mess with slipspace.

-Humanity just got out of a war. A war that they lost. Billions of death, the Earth scarred, hurt and scorched. Yes the first contact with the Turian was rough, but the chance of not having yet an other covenant war was just too big to let slip. If there's any change of avoiding a war, it is your duty to take it.

-Humanity wouldn't just look at the Alien and say 'Exterminate'. They don't have to like it thought.

Also concerning the 'Forerunner artifact' bit. I know the Mass relay are not Forerunner and that the Protheans are not Forerunner. Thank you.

Do you know that German, translate in _Allemand_ , in french and _Deutsch_ in German ? Just food for thoughts.

So anyway, I hope you liked the chapter. Don't hesitate to leave a review with your thoughts.  
And with that. See you soon !


	5. Debriefing and decisions

Greeting everyone!

It has been some time hasn't it?

This year has been quite stressful on me and the chapter took longer than it should to be written.

Last chapter received mostly positive come backs so I'm glad! Even if I'm slow, I don't plan on dropping this story, but I'll have to find some ways to get those chapter out quicker...

I won't hold you any longer and let you read and enjoy! See you at the end for the answers for the reviews, and a bit of rambling.

* * *

 **Debriefing and decisions**

The Normandy SR2's communication room looked like a normal, common, meeting room. There was a long table in the middle of it, made of gray-white metal and light wood. A single chair at the end of the table, comfortable and as modern looking as the rest of the room. But more than comfort, it also contained several pearls of technology, just like most of the other rooms in the ship. As if it was a requirement to even exist within the hull.

Which was most likely the case.

The first Normandy was already the bleeding edge of the technology during her time. And this new Normandy was no different.

The room was of course soundproofed, and protected against spying devices. With all sort of electromagnetic protections. The room was outfitted with several holographic projectors that were able to display any kind of high definition images and vids in the whole room. The table and chair were able to sink and disappear into the ground. But the real pearl of the room was the QEC. Quantum Entanglement Communicators. A pair of quantum-entangled particles, separated and used as a mean of communication. One of the particle was here on the ship, the other by The Illusive Man. The system allowed instantaneous communication, no matter how far apart the particles were. The mean of communication was quick, efficient and secure. That's all Shepard needed to know to fully approve of it.

The QEC was also very expensive. Much like most of everything in the ship. One of, if not the most advanced ship in Citadel space. The huge Eezo core, the revolutionary heat sink, the AI. And Shepard herself.

She had thought about it a few times. Technically, she cost 4 billion credits, at least. So she had wondered, which one had cost the most? Her, or the equipment of the room?

Right now, however, she had something else in her mind.

Her fingers lightly tapped on the holo-keyboard, her eyes darting left and right as Thereza was reading the report she asked from Miranda. The report was rather long and complete, filled with all kind of information and technical terms. At the start, there was the transcription of the conversation between the mysterious woman, Joker, and EDI. Then it was followed by a technical report on how the woman had been able to bypass EDI. Then a complete and no less technical report on which kind of communication she had been using, within the ship, from the ship to the team and more precisely Shepard's omni-tool.

On one hand, Shepard was impressed by the Cerberus operative's capacity to type such a lengthy and precise report in such a short time. In a way, Miranda Lawson was every commanding officer's dream for second in command. Fast, precise, and sticking to the regulations and rules.

But on the other hand, Shepard had the distinctive feeling that the executive officer was trying to drown her under information and technical terms. Not in an attempt to keep information from her, but rather to make the commanding officer ask for precision. Or at least, that's how Thereza was perceiving it. And she didn't like it.

The reason and reasoning being it was clear and simple.

For Shepard, she herself was in command of the ship and mission.

For Miranda, the Illusive Man was in command of the mission. And he decided to put Shepard in charge.

Semantics and technicalities.

Normally, it shouldn't have mattered. But the Cerberus operative had been adamant to press the fact that Shepard was 'in charge' because the Illusive Man said she was 'in charge'. While Miranda was a true 'Cerberus operative', trusted and most importantly listened by the Illusive Man. She felt entitled to think of herself like a consultant, outside of the team and crew and slightly higher. On par with Shepard or maybe higher in the picking order.

But the worst about this woman was her intelligence. She was smart enough not to directly antagonize Shepard, disrespect her or disobey a direct order. And she was also smart -and skilled- enough to be one of the most important profile of the squad and crew. While being undoubtedly the most obnoxious. As if, instead of contesting Shepard's authority, she was more or less passively competing with it.

Shepard sighed and leant back in her chair, relaxing her fingers and arms. She just finished reading the report for the second time already. She was no computer specialist. So more than half of the report went high over her head. But she was no jarhead either. She still managed to grasp and understand the heart of the report. Whoever had hacked them, she was skilled, knew the Normandy and EDI quite well, and had used the QEC. The only viable explanation was then easy to find; the hacker was in the Cerberus Headquarter. She had access to all kind of sensitive information, VI, maybe even AI.

But most importantly information about 1-1-7.

Having extracted what she needed from the report, Thereza closed it and looked around.

More than a jewel of technology, the room was quiet, comfortable place. It had a large table and enough room around it to accommodate about a dozen persons. Barely anyone went through this room except for the briefings and occasional visit from the yeoman or a member of the squad.

Right now, the lights were dimmed, -to accommodate to Shepard's eyes,- making the holo-screen and keyboard shine, casting warm orange light and dark shadows. Light music was being broadcast through the room's loudspeaker. Something relaxing, slow but with a good rhythm. Thereza didn't like the silence. Not for the same reason as Tali though, not out of fear. It was something she picked up short before she joined the System Alliance. Now, it allowed her to focus when she was working.

With a flick of her finger, Shepard raised the volume, letting the music fill her ears, and switched track, choosing something with a faster pace.

While the screen and keyboard might appear to have consistency, they were only hologram, 3D images. The system was advanced enough to detect when Shepard was interacting with the screen or keyboard but she was never really 'touching it'. Meaning that if there was nothing else but the hologram, Thereza's fingers would go right through it without her noticing. Making for a poor interface. That's where one of Cerberus' gifts came in. Implanted under her fingers and palms, there was a network of microchips. They provided force-feedback, allowing Shepard to feel what wasn't really there.

Haptic interfaces. An other piece of technology that made the Normandy and Shepard so expensive. Expensive but also and most importantly efficient.

However things were never that easy and nothing was perfect. Thereza knew that all too well. Hypoesthesia. All over her hands, there were small spots where she lost all sense of touch, except for the deep layer of her skin. The largest spot being on the tip of her left middle finger. The only things she was able to feel with this finger, were holo-screen and keyboards, haptic adaptive interfaces, things that didn't exist.

After all, she had been forcefully woken up as she was 'not quite done/finished'. Miranda of course explained it with other words, but once again Shepard had extracted and filtered the relevant information.

But she didn't complain. For someone who got spaced then crash landed on an ice planet, she was pulling through rather nicely and healthily.

The Commander stretched and let out a deep, pleased sigh as she felt some tension dissipate in her shoulders and back. However the pleased sigh turned into a painful wince as she breathed in, the bruise on her ribs still quite present and sore. Clenching her teeth, Thereza lightly pressed her hand on the side of her chest. Pain bit her side again, but this time she was ready for it and expecting it. She closed her eyes and forced herself to take deep breaths. Pain came back with a vengeance.

Lances of pain shot through her ribs, feeling hot as her muscles were 'cold'. Even though she kept taking deep breaths, the pain dulled slowly to an ache. So Shepard arched her back adding tension in her muscles and forcing the pain to come back. Adding to it, she also pressed her hand more onto her ribs. She clenched her teeth and counted to ten, before allowing herself to relax and breath out. Only then the pain subsided.

Shepard focused on the feeling in her chest and repeated the process several times.

If she couldn't make the pain go away, she would have to get used to it.

Soon her team would come in and Shepard would have to stand and speak. What they would want to listen to was their commanding officer. Not a wincing, short breathing victim with tear filled eyes, staggering in pain.

Thereza Shepard was an N7 operative, first human Specter, saviour of the Citadel and Council. She had to act like it.

She took an other deep breath. The pain came back as expected, but now felt dull and easily manageable and concealable. Glad, she stood up, passing her fingers just under her eyes and remove any tears that might be there. She frowned as she noticed just a little bit of wetness on her finger. Not dwelling on it, she wiped it on her pants.

With her other hand, she reached for the glass next to her computer. The large glass was still half full of orange juice.

Her biotic powers allowed her to perform inhuman feats, lifting objects and throwing them by thoughts alone, moving at lighting speed, and strengthening her blows. Deadly assets in the battlefield, dangerous hobbies outside. She might have some natural talents in biotics. But unlike some thought, it wasn't a gift that she received and was able to freely use. It was a set of skills she had honed along the years and still had to train to keep them combat-ready.

The other aspect most ignored, was the draw her power had on her body. Creating biotic field and using this dark energy required a massive mental and physical effort. At the end of the day, most biotic needed more calories than the other soldier. And according to EDI and Chakwas, Shepard seemed to need even more, about twice as much as the normal ration. The reasons behind wasn't very clear for now, but Chakwas' and Shepard's best guesses would lie in Cerberus gifts, augmentations and cybernetic implants.

Shepard took a deep breath and downed the remaining half of the glass in one go. Her throat still ached, but only lightly. The juice was warmer than before and it only helped to make the taste stronger, more present. The sweetness of the orange juice remained in her mouth for a moment. A slight shiver ran along her jaw and at the back of her neck.

She then took one of the water pitchers and poured herself some water, made it spin in her glass before downing it too. She repeated the process once. Then filled the glass completely, holding it up. She nodded, content, when she noticed that the water was completely clear. No trace of juice at the bottom of the glass or on its edge. With a handkerchief, she wiped the edge clean and dry before placing the glass back down, next to her computer.

Shepard nodded to herself.

Bringing up her omni-tool, she flicked a few buttons, making the music fade progressively while bringing the light up to their normal luminosity. During the transition, she leant forward, her eyes focused on the screen of her computer while her omni-tool was still lit. Quickly and precisely, her eyes darting left and right. Quickly, she scanned over the different reports displayed, taking in the words she highlighted and notes she made. She gave herself thirty seconds to review the information needed for the debriefing and introduction of new members.

Confident she was ready, Shepard stood up straight. After checking that her outfit was straight and sharp, she closed the last buttons of its collar. The music was completely gone, and the lights were back on. An other flick of her finger on her omni-tool made the hologram on the door turn from red to green. She placed both hands behind her back, her right hand holding her left wrists, and waited.

Less than a minute later, the door slid open. The imposing and impressive figure of 117 walked in. He was dressed in normal military fatigue, his hands still bandaged. Along with his haircut and the stiff way he walked, he looked like a 'by the book' soldier. From an outside eye and alone, he could be mistaken for an other of Normandy's crewman.

However as he stepped inside the QEC room, he could difficultly look more out of place. Towering over Jacob and Miranda -who were escorting him-, tense -ready to jump on any threat that would appear-, and wary -actually looking for said threat-.

Jacob stopped briefly to give a quick and sharp salute, and Miranda simply gave a slow, distant nod. Shepard gave her own, sharp and quick nod, substituting it to her salute and motioned them to the spot on her left. The two Cerberus operatives also looked tense and wary. Even if 1-1-7 had no aggressive intends anymore, they had seen what he was capable of, and they were still unsure about his loyalties.

They took place around the table, to Shepard's left and under the Commander's careful eyes. First Jacob, then 1-1-7, both stood in a 'by the book' rest position. Then there was Miranda, leaning on one leg, her arms crossed, casual and distant.

No word were exchanged and silence soon came back. A tense and heavy silence. Jacob stood a bit stiffly, his eyes set on one point of the table. Shepard knew that he was focusing on 1-1-7 who was standing in his peripheral vision. Miranda was doing the same, her eyes lost in the distance and managing to look disinterested. Shepard herself was less discreet. Standing rigidly at the end of the table, she had her head slightly turned and was scanning the three persons at her side. Habit she took at the System Alliance from being an officer. She surveyed and checked their uniform and stature as if they were going to parade in front of an admiral. While she spotted several tiny mistakes on Jacob, Miranda's 'uniform' was technically irreproachable as itself -but a joke as a proper outfit-, unlike her posture. But with 1-1-7, it was something else. The man's outfit was simple enough to have it devoid of any apparent flaws. His stature however was perfect. Shoulders square, head facing forward with only his eyes moving around to survey his surroundings, his feet firmly planted in the ground -without hesitation,- at shoulder's width. His chest wasn't puffed out to show his decoration. Clearly a trained and hardened soldier who isn't all for the parade and show. Shepard nodded to herself, then returned her eyes to the door, waiting for the others to arrive.

A few moments later, the silence was broken by the door opening again and the sound of several heavy footsteps. The rest of the squad walked in. Shepard knew they all had arrived with the same elevator. Garrus would have gone to fetch both Grunt and Jack then passed by the laboratory to pry Mordin away from his experiments. And it was indeed Garrus who entered first, leading the rest inside. With a slight limp, and after a quick nod, he came to take his place to Shepard's right. Grunt looked uninterested. Mordin was more interested in his omni-tool. And Jack, -who had bandages around her still unclothed midsection,- took her place, opposed to Shepard, having a pissed expression on her face.

Shepard was conscious that the news about the 'unexpected addition to the squad' had spread quickly through the ship. Garrus could hold a grudge but respected her to much to cause any problem. Grunt considered Shepard as his battle-master. Jack would be the most problematic, but her pale skin and slow movements showed that she still was weak and recovering.

However, it wasn't on them that Shepard's attention was directed at. From the corner of her eyes, she was focused on 1-1-7. Of course, he instantly became a lot tenser and rigid as soon as the first non-human stepped into the room. Quickly and precisely, he observed them, his eyes scanning their empty weapon holders before glancing to Shepard's thigh where she still kept her knife and a pistol. As Thereza expected, he efficiently scanned the potential hostiles and his surrounding. He even seemed to assess the height of the ceiling to be ready if he had to vault over the table.

And -unsurprisingly- his attention lingered on one person in particular. It wasn't on the member of the prime military power of the Citadel space, nor on the tank-bred warrior. For several seconds, he kept his eyes on Mordin Solus, the Salarian. Mordin had walked in with his eyes set on his omni-tool, most likely monitoring some experiment he had been running in his lab, or reading scientific reports. He had only spared a quick glance at 1-1-7, mumbled a few things about 'unusually tall, military behaviour and training' before focusing back on his readings.

In all honesty, Shepard had expected this debriefing to be tedious. It would have been already bad and stressful enough with just Jack, -a criminal psychopath who hated Cerberus,- but there was also 1-1-7 now. The tension in the room was only raising with time and even if Shepard was not fond of figurative, she was sure it already had reached the point where it could have been cut with her knife.

"Mordin" Shepard simply said with a sure, authoritative voice.

The Salarian pressed two last buttons on his omni-tool before placing his hands behind his back.

"Checking on some ongoing experiments. Promising results so far on the drones, but still need more test before being relevant." He quickly and precisely explained.

"Now that everyone is ready, we can begin." Shepard started with a sure, strong voice.

"As you are all aware, today's mission was to get into the Purgatory to retrieve a new member for the squad; Jack. We met some unexpected troubles, but it resulted in no permanent damages to the squad, ship or crew. Additionally, we have a potential new member for the squad." Shepard said, motioning to 1-1-7. "This matter will be discussed with the Illusive Man later on. You will be informed of the decision."

'Debriefing, done'

 **MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH**

When Garrus stepped in the QEC, Shepard wasn't the first one his attention fell onto. His shoulder felt stiffer than usual and his hands achingly empty. His back too light and still sore. For safety measure, and to ensure the environment would be more controlled and less aggressive, Shepard ordered that no weapon would be brought in the QEC for this specific debriefing. It had been quite complicated to convince Grunt to leave his shotgun behind. And it still left the one able to use biotics, Jack. But without weapons, environment was more controllable. Less prone to degenerate into a firefight at a moment's notice, at least.

The Turian looked directly on the large human, the same that had stabbed him in the back less than an hour ago. He stood rigidly, at rest and motionless. His features were calm and serious, his keen eyes observing back the Turian. Garrus was in the same time glad and confused by the expression painted on his face. For someone who showed so much aggression, he looked quite controlled. He didn't look at the non-human in an angry, haughty or disgusted way like so many xenophobes.

But a shiver still ran down Garrus' spine. The man was a varren that would bite without barking. That man would snap the Turian's neck with a calm, expressionless face and without any kind of warning.

He took a deep breath, at least as deep as his wound allowed him to, and stepped forward, turning his attention toward Shepard.

Having been in the Turian military, C-Sec, and Omega, and of course in Shepard's team when she had been hunting Saren, Garrus Vakarian saw a lot. Mercenaries, soldiers, veterans, crazies. He went through his fair share of fights. Some of them went well, and some not so much. Sometime being on the receiving end of some nasty situation that turned uglier than expected. Wounds of nearly all type and extend, and damages from conventional and exotic weapons, he was no stranger from these kind of things.

He also knew Shepard had been trained to wear heavy armours and preferred them over lighter, more comfortable version. Those efficient with biotics, -those nicknamed 'adept',- would often favour light armours to make their movements easier and more fluid. That allowed them to control their biotic fields a lot more easily. Some of them were competent enough to use biotic as additional protections. But essentially, adepts were not meant to be on the first lines.

However, Garrus had rarely seen Shepard anywhere but in front of the front lines. A vanguard.

The armour Cerberus made for her was among the heaviest and thickest. A prototype quite above the standard issues even among the military and special ops. Yet, her chest plate received a hit that left it shattered. Fissures reaching all the way to the back. Only a Krogan battlemaster like Wrex would be able to hit hard enough to produce this kind of damage using only physical strength. And Garrus wasn't even sure that a single hit would be enough. An other possibility would include a speeding car or mako.

After such a blow anyone would have ended up in the infirmary for at least a month, in the best cases. Stayed down for good in the worse.

But not Shepard. She was there. No bandages to hide the near fatal wound on the side of her head. Standing tall and proud. The collar around of her outfit hiding almost perfectly the large bruise around her neck. She had taken a beating. Maybe the worse since Saren. Her body visibly bore the marks. But her stature and rigor were obviously unaffected.

Trying to reduce his limp to the minimum, Turian's habit as not to disappoint the commanding officer, Garrus advanced and took his place at Shepard's side. He maybe felt a pang of jealousy. Despite having a thicker skin than her, a part of Garrus wished he had the same resilience.

 **MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH**

The debriefing was brief and concise. Shepard would give each member a personal debriefing if needed, to prevent building tensions among the squad by pointing out mistakes and possible ameliorations in front of everyone.

The next part of the meeting would be longer and more tedious, but still necessary. She had explained it briefly to Jack and more in depth to 1-1-7.

"Now, concerning the reason we are all here today, and our mission." Shepard started, making a hologram of several planets appear in the middle of the table, replacing the Normandy. "The situation stands like this : In the last year, a dozen human colonies have been wiped. No damages to the structures but all the colonist were abducted. We never heard from them again. Lately, we learned that the responsible behind these attacks were a nameless race designated as 'Collectors'." She pressed a few more buttons on her omni-tool and an hologram of the alien appeared. It had a low resolution and its movements were jumpy, but it was the best images they had, taken from the Quarian, Veetor. "The Collectors gathers 'biological samples' and have been active mainly in the Terminus systems. They come from beyond the Omega 4 relay, but none of our expedition ship ever came back from there. We don't know much more from the Collectors themselves. Purpose, organization, origins. What we know however, and that's the most important, is how they operate to abduct entire colonies."

Shepard pressed a few more buttons on her omni-tool, and cast a quick glance around.

The first button made the Collector disappear.

The gathered squad seemed to be still mostly focused and interested in the presentation. Jack was the one showing the more impatience, her hands buried deep in her pocket and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

A second button displayed several screens, and on each one the same frozen images, the one from Freedom's Progress' video surveillance.

1-1-7 was keeping his eyes solely focused on the screen. Still tense, he understood that the aliens in the room were no immediate danger and that Shepard's order was more important. And anyway, if any of the three wanted to attack him, they would first have to go over the table, which would give him ample time to react.

A third button made the video play. I would play in loop until Shepard decided to stop it.

"This is a footage from the latest abducted colony." Shepard declared. "It clearly shows the Collectors. Observe them. How they move, interact, behave. Humanoid in shape, common number of limbs. They communicate with signs, so they have sight. And from that we can hypothesize that those four glowing dots are eyes. Which would mean that they have large field of vision. And possibly several point of focus. They are organized, calm and not rushed."

She took a small pause and a sip of water to let these pieces of information sink in.

"They are armed with unknown, but conventionally shaped weapon. They are no wounded among them. Along with the lack of damage, it further confirm the fact that there was no fights. But they are prepared for resistance. These footage along with an eye witness allowed us to understand their abduction's technique."

A button was pressed and a hologram of a strange insectoid creature appeared.

"These insects, nicknamed 'Seeker drones', are capable to trap their prey in a sort of stasis field. Obviously making them unable to flee or fight back. The Collectors are either immune to the drones' capacities, or have fine enough control over them to be left untouched."

Shepard briefly stopped once again. The video jumped and froze, then after a zoom, the image was focused on the strange sarcophagus that one Collector was leading somewhere.

"Once the drones have done their work, and the colonists are down-and-out, the Collectors arrive, place each colonist in one of these sarcophagus and lead them away. It must be a long and tedious process. But it tells us two important things. The colonists are taken still alive. And the seeker drones' effect are temporary."

With a press of a button, Shepard switched off the holo-screen and placed her hands behind her back, keeping her omni-tool open on her palm.

"Our mission's primary objective is to stop the Collectors. To be able to achieve it, we have three secondary objectives. One; Find a way to go through the Omega 4 relay. Two; learn as much as we can about the Collectors themselves. And three; find a way to protect ourselves from the Seeker drones. Those objectives are mandatory for our success. In the meantime as an optional objective, we will keep hunting the Collectors in the Terminus systems. We will stand ready to react if they are sighted or if one of our colony goes black. As long as it doesn't hinder or endanger our primary or secondary objectives."

Shepard took an other pause to let these information sink in. Those were the main guidelines of their mission. She was mainly focusing her speech and attention on Jack and 1-1-7. The first kept a deep frown on her face, her arms crossed. Jack was fidgeting. Most likely uncomfortable with the whole military feel of the meeting, or the amount of people in the room, trying to hide it with her expression. And the second was keeping his attention on the Commander, still in the same rest position, completely focused. The other members of the squad already heard it, several times for some. But a reminder never hurt. And they were there for the next point in her speech.

"We are not affiliated to any official military forces or government. We work in collaboration with Cerberus. We share information. They provide us with basic funds and equipment. The rest is up to us. Every member of the squad gathered here has specialized skills that will serve a purpose for the mission."

It was best to start with the presentation of the squad before going on the new members. The process might be long, but necessary to have a good cohesion between the members.

"Mordin Solus is an expert geneticist, and scientist and former STG. On the ship, he's the science officer. He's working on the Seeker Drones and how to protect ourselves from them. Miranda Lawson and Jacob Tyler are both members of Cerberus. Miranda is the executive officer and the squad's head analyst. She's my second-in-command. Jacob is the Armoury chief, ex-soldier of the System Alliance. Garrus Vakarian is the Gunnery Chief, ex-Csec. And Grunt, a heavy hitter."

The said Krogan let out a low, rumbling chuckle. His definition was short and simple. Fitting his muscles and brutality. Meant and made to kill and slaughter and not much else. He obviously liked it.

"Now, the new members. You all already knew Jack." Shepard then focused her attention solely on the 'Subject Zero'. "Jack, you'll be the biotic expert of the team, and a heavy hitter next to Grunt."

The tattooed woman raised her eyebrow and turned her head to the Krogan. Next to the tank bred alien, the small human looked like a toothpick that would break just as easily. But appearances, in that case, were deceitful. Jack scoffed and rolled her eyes but decided to stay silent as Grunt also turned his head to her and grinned.

"Concerning the potential new member, codename 1-1-7." Shepard turned and motioned toward the large man.

1-1-7 didn't seem to mind as the general attention shifted to him. He didn't even move. Only his eyes were drifting left and right, stopping at each member of the squad, judging them, calculating them once again. He soon turned his look back toward Shepard, apparently quite comfortable in ignoring the rest of the squad.

"Special forces. If he joins us, his assignation will be split between heavy hitters and stealth operations."

No answer or reaction in any kind. It was only information, and it was evident he heard her. So until he made his decision, his 'assignation' among the squad meant nothing to him. Shepard was well aware of that fact. However, his silence and lack of reaction seemed to make some of the other member slightly uneasy and the tension in the room only got worse.

"You're welcome to get more acquainted to each other at the mess." Shepard said.

In this sentence, she signified that she wouldn't say more on the squad-members and that she didn't plan to let them talk about themselves. Cohesion was important among such a small team, and knowing each other was the first, mandatory step. They would spend months, -in the best case scenario- fighting next to each other and living together in a small ship. The sooner they get to know each other and at least tolerate each other, the better. However, right now Shepard was leading an important mission briefing. It was no place for mundanities and small talks. Unfortunately…

"Yeah, that's so cute.", the tone was dry and the last word almost spat. Nearly all heads turned to Jack. "I'm sure you're a happy bunch, but I'm just here for the files in your DBs. Not to be nice and play guitar around campfires late at night. I'll do whatever shitjob you have for me but when it's done, you give me what I want and I haul."

"Everything doesn't revolve around you, Jack." Admonished Miranda with a haughty tone. "We're here for a reason and we have a mission."

"Save colonies I don't give a crap about? Brilliant!"

"If you do not wish to co-operate, maybe it would be easier to put you in a holding cell until we reach our next destination?"

"Back off, princess." Jack growled in answer, really not keen about the whole holding cell idea. "And go back to licking your master's boot."

"For someone who obeys only because you'll get something in return, you're not worthier than a dog whining for treats."

Miranda didn't even look at Jack, but her dry tone carried her snide remark perfectly.

 **MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH**

The briefing went well until then. Complete but relatively short, concise and precise. Garrus heard it twice already. The first time when Shepard had recruited him, just out of the infirmary, his ears still ringing from the rocket. And the second time when Grunt had been recruited. Surprisingly the Krogan had managed to stay interested until the end. Most likely something that the 'glass mother' imprinted in him. Respect of the superior officer and importance of briefing. For Garrus and thanks to his own military training, it was something almost natural of course. But he knew that for some, briefings could be long and tedious and seen as something useless and superfluous.

He looked around the table as Shepard was talking. Most were listening mainly out of respect more than interest. Without shame, he acknowledged that he was among them. The only part that truly interested him was the information about 1-1-7. And they were scarce to say the least.

And then, Jack. It was bound to happen. The young biotic was unstable at best and still quite pissed both about her wound and about being on a Cerberus' frigate. She had managed to stay silent during the briefing, but she took the first occasion to speak up and make her displeasure shamelessly known.

Before long, insults, variably subtle, snide remarks and pikes began to fly back and forth between Jack and Miranda. And no one around the table dared to say anything to stop them, or care enough to do anything. Jacob let out a discreet sigh as if he knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. Mordin's eyes were lost in the distance, most likely running calculation and hypothesis in his head. And Grunt…

"Got a problem, Numbers?"

Unsurprisingly, when Garrus turned his head to him, the Krogan was staring, no, glaring at 1-1-7, his fists clenched. 1-1-7 was standing just opposed to him around the table, and was staring at him. Either by interest, precaution or simply because he was the one in front of him. But no matter the reason, that obviously managed to stir the Krogan's anger.

"Want a piece of me? Don't think the second round will go as smoothly." He warned. "I'll break you."

To illustrate his words, Grunts made his neck and shoulders crack, pumping himself up.

And despite the threat, 1-1-7 remained impassive. Garrus frowned and slightly shook his head. At this point the worst thing to do for 1-1-7 was to do nothing and keep staring at the Krogan. Respectfully looking away after a short instant would have eliciting a scoff and an other remark from Grunt, most likely. But at least it would have defused the situation. Right now, by not reacting and keeping his eyes in Grunt's, the new comer was simply defying the Krogan.

Garrus hands felt empty and his back too light.

He wasn't half bad in hand to hand combat, but he wouldn't fancy wrestling with a Krogan and even less the man who at least drew with Shepard.

And as he was thinking about her, Garrus turned his head toward the Commander. Since the start of the argument, she had stayed silent, calm and controlled. After observing for a moment the event unfolding around her table, she reached for the glass in front of her.

Garrus simply observed and stayed silent. He could have intervened, at least between 1-1-7 and Grunt to try to reason the first and calm the second. Letting Jacob try and deal with his friend and the convict. However, he knew it wasn't his role to do so and actually stared at Shepard with a strange kind of fascination. He wanted to see how she'll handle this.

Thereza's slender fingers delicately picked the glass of water as one would pick a glass of fine vine. She lifted it and for a moment, seemed to study the level of the water. For an instant, Garrus wondered if she was trying to discreetly observe Jack or Miranda. But as the first made a rude gesture toward the other without eliciting any reaction from the commander, the Turian deduced that she was indeed focused on her glass. Her eyebrow slightly pressed together and with a slight frown on her face as if she was doing some kind of calculation.

Decisively and quickly, she downed down about half of the water, letting out a silent sigh as she then observed her glass once again, this time followed by a small, almost imperceptive nod.

Suddenly, the glass was brought down on the table with a decisive yet calculated force. The water jumped at the moment when the glass got loudly slammed on the table. But a small and carefully controlled singularity trapped it within the confine of its container. Now unaffected by the artificial gravity of the ship, the water was twirling and swirling in graceful and ever changing patterns, arcs and curves. Not a single drop managed to escape.

Garrus once had gone to a spectacle given by some Asaris. The blue aliens had decided to put their natural skills in biotic into art instead of war. Honing them to entertain and wonder instead to destroy and protect. The spectacle had been unforgettable, displaying magnificent skills and beauty. Speaking both to the senses and to the soul. At some point they also had played with water, making it fly and dance at their will. The quantity of water and finesse of control had been greatly superior to what Shepard was currently displayed, but the sight still made this souvenir come back to Garrus. One of the rare moment of quiet he had during his time working on the Citadel.

He had been amazed and marveled then, and he was amazed and marveled now. But not for the same reason.

As the glass got slammed on the wood, a deathly silence fell over the room and in an instant all heads were turned to the Commander.

"Enough."

That's all she needed to say. Her tone was calm, controlled yet sure and strict.

"I run this ship militarily." Shepard asserted. "It means several things. And among them; no infighting. If you can't solve your personal problems strives in a peaceful manner, keep a deck between each other. If you really want to fight, I'll gladly join. But you won't like it."

In a short moment of silence, she leveled a meaningful stare at each of the squad members. Without exception and without inequities. None dared to speak. Jack huffed and crossed her arms, looking away. Miranda resumed staring straight in front of her. And Grunt looked down. Shepard didn't need to raise her voice to be respected and to show authority. The only reason why she would raise her voice and shout would be to be heard over some noises. Strict words and tone were otherwise more than enough. The kind of superior officer that Garrus would gladly follow to hell and back.

 **MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH**

With the arguments and potential fight, now taken care off, quiet and order back in the room, Shepard rightened herself and continued.

"It also means that there will be order and discipline at all time, this is not a pirate frigate nor a holiday cruiser."

Her voice firm, she was enunciating how things have to run on her ship without specifically telling that 'she wanted' them that way. In the contrary, she was giving out her points as if it was some kind of truth, driving them further home with much more weight and meaning.

"At all time you will be engagement ready in ten minutes, max. Whatever you are doing. On the field, I will give orders and I will be obeyed. If you have any query, question, doubt or objection concerning the missions, they will be addressed during the pre-mission briefing and to me. Nowhere else and to no-one else."

"Between missions, if you have anything to tell me, any problem to be brought up to me, I will spend most of my time here. If it's urgent, you can come here directly. Otherwise, go to Kelly, our yeowoman, and she will redirect you to me at a convenient time."

From that point, Shepard continued briefly onto the non-combatant crew. Kelly, Chakwas, Joker and EDI. To illustrate the AI, she made it appear in the middle of the table. Or at least its representation.

A large, blue chesspiece blinked into existence, its single eye staring, emotionless, forward. In a bland, monotone voice, the AI shortly explained her functions on the ship but also her limitations and shackles as to sooth the crew potential worries. Of course, those worry would only come from Jack and 1-1-7 as the others already had the same speech and had been working with the AI for a few days or weeks already.

However Jack looked completely uninterested. Maybe she already went on some pirates or other outlaws' ships with illegal AIs. Or she genuinely didn't care.

1-1-7's reaction was a lot more telling. As soon as the AI appeared, his head snapped toward it. And all the while it was talking, he kept his eyes on the hologram. Focused, he seemed to be looking for something. Whatever that was, Shepard couldn't tell. But one thing was sure; unlike most, he didn't show any sign of wariness toward the AI.

From what Shepard remembered, the UNSC had outfitted lots of their ships with AI. It had allowed for indisputably better overall performances. However, these AI had been, for the most advanced, made from clones of human brains. And whatever their specs and performances were, these kind of AIs had short lifespan and basically became crazy after a few years. Unquestionably more dangerous than any geths, due to the unpredictability of the 'rampancy'. And anyway, the system alliance no longer had the resources to make such expensive AI, preferring cheaper and safer VI.

Maybe, the UNSC that still existed out of the Citadel space, still had enough resources to produce that kind of Artificial Intelligence. Or maybe more 'conventional' AI as they cost a bit less. Anyway, that was one more problem to add to the ever growing lists concerning 1-1-7 in Shepard's head.

As soon as EDI finished its speech, Shepard wasted no time and switched off the holographic projectors to make the attention of the audience switch back to her.

"That'll be enough information for now"

Shepard had spoken enough, and one thing didn't slip her attention. 1-1-7 haven't said a word.

 **MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH**

The lights faded and the hologram projectors flickered to life. In a couple of seconds, the QEC was almost perfectly seamlessly replaced by a much larger room. The floor was covered with dark tiles. A large plate-glass window was showing a orange-red star, -most likely a projection too,- only source of light from the room. The only furniture in the whole room was a comfortable chair.

Megalomania. That had been the first word that came to Shepard's mind the first time she had seen this room.

For an office, the room wasn't huge, it was humongous. To the point it nearly became too much.

But Thereza understood it perfectly. The reasons why the room was so big and arranged that way. An easy and quick way to enforce the roles of anyone involved.

On one end; Someone was entering a room far too big. Tiny. The large place was mostly empty, and most probably silent. Uncomfortable. The tiles and window-screen were pristine clean, showing beautiful and mesmerizing reflections and scenes. Impressed. And of course there was only one chair. The office was meant for only one person to be there. Anyone other would only be a temporary guest. Out of place.

Tiny. Uncomfortable. Impressed. And out of place.

Shepard noticed and understood it the first time she was 'invited'. From that point, it was easy to cast away the mental biases brought by the room. However, she also had perceived the 'other side'. And even if she wasn't deceived by it, a small part of her seemed to envy it.

On the other end; Someone was sitting in a chair, cross-legged, relaxed. It was his room. He was often either drinking or smoking freely and carefreely. He owned this place. There was always some lights blinking on the armrest or a small holo-screen. It added mystery and showed that whoever this person was meeting, they weren't worth having his complete and constant attention. And of course the star. The star said two things. The first was brought by the position of the person and the guest. 'If you are looking at me, you're looking at a star'. And the second came from the fact that there was no lamps in the room. 'The only light I deserve is this star shining on me.'

And that's what made Shepard want to sit on that chair the most.

Her blue eyes studied the room for a split second more before looking down on the man, meeting his cybernetic blue eyes.

"Shepard." simply said The Illusive Man, acknowledging her presence, keeping his eyes on her.

"Jack and 1-1-7 are on the ship." Thereza answered, skipping the salutations as usual. "No permanent damages on the ship, and no permanent wounds on the crew. We're at the moment functionally operational, and we'll be fully operational in three days. Currently we're heading toward the Citadel to officially restore my Specter status. We'll arrive there in 26 hours."

Just like with her crew, her debriefing to the Illusive Man was short, and concise, going straight to the point. She knew that the Illusive Man wasn't someone who enjoyed mundanities, and was able to follow her. Moreover, Shepard also knew that he most probably already knew everything she just told him, and that Miranda's report was displayed on the small holo-screen still visible over his right armrest.

He didn't need to look at it. Either all the points were still in his mind, or he was able to see it without moving his obviously enhanced eyes.

-Shepard wondered if he even needed any screen and if these visible screen was only there to be part of the deception.-

"Now, who is he?" she bluntly asked.

"You mean your new element? This 1-1-7?"

The obvious and expected reaction was for her to reply 'Yes' then wait for him to answer her question.

"You were quite adamant on me getting him on the team, yet you rebuked me for Grunt." she said with a calm and controlled voice. "That, and the codded phrase; 'Holy holy oxen free'. It made him back down instantly and it came from your side. I guess EDI managed to mine information from the Purgatory's databases and Miranda hacked into the security cameras. Or someone on your side. I don't care. You _know_ who he is."

Shepard didn't repeat her question. She was standing in a rigid rest position, her hands behind her back, -out of habit mostly,- and so that she can hide her clenched fists. The Illusive Man simply stayed seated and pulled a long drag on his cigarette, his eyes slightly narrowed most likely buying some time to think of the right answer to give.

"His profile matched the pattern." He explained slowly. "This codded phrase was a widely used duress code in the special forces. With these information, one of our analyst decided to take action and contact your omni-tool directly. She was right to do so, wasn't she?"

Shepard didn't react or answer. She took a deep breath and started to open and close her right hand as if she was squeezing the juice out of an orange.

She didn't know what angered her the most. The fact that, according to his words, the Illusive Man gambled her life on a blind bet, barely more than some guts feelings and naive hopes. Or that, in some way or an other, he hoped that she would believe this blatant lie.

What kind of pattern? The one of a special force's soldier? Thousands would match too. Adding the fact that this soldier was augmented would narrow the scope to hundreds, maybe dozens with some luck. Widely used duress code? Wouldn't it defeat the core idea of duress code? Or at least render him weaker and more prone to be maliciously used. Hence less trustworthy. An analyst was able to process all the information needed to come to an improbable conclusion? Then, she accessed the QEC to the Normandy, helped by a VI powerful enough to go through EDI.

The Illusive Man knew a lot more than what he let out. Shepard knew of it. Of course he did. Of course she did. But she didn't like it. Being played with and kept in the dark on sensitive subject that she needed to know and be in full control of.

It had happened at Torfan before. She had pulled through and fulfilled her mission. It had been a mess.

"He's from the UNSC." she said flatly.

"I know."

'Or you didn't and are just playing and pretending.' Shepard thought dryly.

"Then you know what it means if this information leaks out." she continued, her voice developing an edge. "If the Council gets word of it, if they learn that the UNSC still exists, and is able to send soldier into the Citadel Space. War."

"You are overreacting and overthinking it, Shepard."

"They know what kind of ships the humanity had access to, before the Charon relay activated." she argued further, without raising her voice. "The Council will want to act before the UNSC manages to get any ships here. They can't get near Earth, but our other colonies are not as well protected. They'll take them hostages, as well as all the humans they can find. The System Alliance doesn't have the firepower or manpower to fight against the whole Council. Of course we'll win the war with the UNSC on our side, but we face millions of civilian casualties, billions maybe."

"I know that perfectly. But that's the worst case scenario.", the Illusive Man say, controlled nearly to the point of nonchalance. "And I won't let it happen."

Yes it was, but Thereza couldn't simply rely and hope for the best case scenario. She preferred to be ready for the worst and be disappointed, rather than being not prepared and surprised.

As for trusting the Illusive Man to handle the situation and make sure it would never happen...

"I will get to the Citadel, officially restore my Spectre status, and warn Admiral Anderson about 1-1-7 and the UNSC." said Shepard. It wasn't a question and she didn't await any approval from the man in front of her. She simply informed him.

The Illusive Man pulled an other drag of his cigarette and turned to the small holo-screen over his armrest. He tapped it a few times.

"Very well. Anything else?", he asked, without looking at her.

"1-1-7 wants to talk to you and know what your connections to the UNSC are. Depending on your answers, he'll decide if he stays with the team or not."

"What have you told him?"

A broad question, to get as many answers and information.

"I told him that Cerberus worked for the best of humanity's interests. Unlike the Council, it is investigating the disappearance of human colonies. And that to the common knowledge, mine included, the UNSC doesn't exist anymore."

Thereza didn't expose what she had told about herself, her own aims and reasons to follow Cerberus. It wasn't relevant right now.

The Illusive Man finished typing on his screen then turned back to Shepard.

"Let him in."

 **MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH**

Garrus had been trapped in a building and fired upon by three different mercenary groups for days and weeks. It had been deep within Omega. For a C-Sec officer like him,- considering it hell might be pushing it a bit too far,- but it was still in the middle of the enemy territory. And he had ended with a rocket in the face. Yet, it had been a relaxing experience compared to the situation he was in.

There was still a numb pain pressing on his tense back to remind itself to him. But it was no longer hindering his movements too much anymore. Now, he felt the familiar weight of a hand gun on his thigh. Jacob was in the hallway too now, with his rifle, held down.

However, it did nothing to help him relax. And it was all because of the third person in the hallway. The strangely named; 1-1-7.

In his service at C-Sec, then following Shepard and also at the Terminus Systems, he had seen his fair share of humans. But this man was different. And from the moment Garrus came back with Shepard's handgun, 1-1-7 kept his eyes on him. The large man was standing near the wall, in front of the hatch leading to the QEC, his hands at his sides. He was also tense. Like a spring, ready to jump.

'Doesn't he know it's rude to stare?', thought Garrus, trying to amuse himself from the situation.

Shepard had specifically asked 1-1-7 to wait there. Jacob was also there on Shepard's orders. And Garrus had decided to come on his own, just to be sure. He knew that the two member of the squad weren't there to restrain and suppress 1-1-7 if needed. And after the display in the Purgatory, the Turian doubted that the two of them would be enough anyway. And thankfully, 1-1-7 didn't look as aggressive as before. But even thought, he was staring at Garrus. The ex C-Sec knew that he only waiting for the first reason to jump on him.

Swallowing dryly, Garrus shifted a bit against the wall. He kept his arms crossed, protectively in front of his chest and his hands clearly visible. The silence was heavy and it made each seconds longer than they should logically be. Any attempts at starting a conversation was met by silence so he soon stopped altogether. The man in front of him stayed inhumanely still, his face expressionless.

When Shepard had informed the team about him, she had been quite elusive, contrary to her usual self. He didn't question it, as he trusted her. But the end result was the same ; except from his exceptional combat prowesses and the fact that he seemed to trust and follow Shepard for now, 1-1-7 was still a complete mystery.

"Understood." said Jacob, with a calm voice in his omni-tool.

Holding his rifle with one hand, he pressed the hologram on the door, -which had just turned green-.

"You can go in." the Cerberus operative said, motioning toward the dark room beyond.

1-1-7 simply nodded and stepped into the QEC, keeping his eyes on Garrus as long as possible.

It was only when the door slid close and the hologram turned red that the Turian let out a low sigh and rolled his shoulders to relax them.

"Tense?", Jacob asked with a chuckle and a joking tone to hide his own tension.

"That's an understatement...", answered Garrus. "He doesn't look like a fan of Turians."

"Or any non-humans. Have you seen how he looked at Grunt and Mordin too?" asked Jacob, placing his rifle on his back. "I've seen a lot of xenophobic people in Cerberus, but him… He seemed ready to jump and tear your throat off if you coughed in a vaguely aggressive way..."

"Well, that looks promising... He'd fit right in.", Garrus said with a chuckle that ended in a weak groan. He brought his hand on his back.

 **MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH**

When the door opened, the holograms switched off completely and on the same time, leaving Shepard in a dark room for a few instants. 1-1-7 stepped inside, with long strides still as careful, his eyes spanning the whole room in a quick but efficient survey. Shepard silently motioned him to come and stand at her left. It has no symbolical value in it. She just didn't want him on her right, where her weapons were.

A few seconds later, as the door closed and locked back, the holograms switched back on. 1-1-7 didn't look surprised, but Shepard knew he was able to hide his emotions and reaction quite well. She kept him in the corner of her eye and looked down at the Illusive Man. He was no longer smoking, but still sitting in his chair.

"You must be '1-1-7'. They call me 'The Illusive Man'. I guess we both prefer to keep our names to ourselves. I'm the leader of Cerberus. Shepard told me about you. She also told me you had questions for me. More specifically about my connections to the UNSC. Is that right?"

The Illusive Man's voice was as calm and confident as ever. Shepard noticed him study 1-1-7 closely, his cybernetic eyes traveling up and down several times.

1-1-7 simply nodded. No words, or polite request, staying true to himself. He must have noticed that the Illusive Man was no soldier, from his attitude and clothes. So not a superior officer.

"Knowing that Cerberus has connections to the UNSC is already more than most people knows.", the Illusive Man started. "But I can tell you this; You and I both know what the code phrase means, its importance and where it comes from. I know precisely who you are. More than that, I can't tell you. Compartmentalization. You can understand that, Son."

The tall man became slightly more rigid, and nodded slowly, deep in thoughts.

There was a moment of silence.

Shepard remained still too. She was looking at the star, over the Illusive Man's head. Lies. Either in what he had told her before, or what he was telling 1-1-7 now. Maybe both... She understood perfectly that he was doing it to ensure 1-1-7 loyalty and to make sure Shepard wouldn't get too nosy and insistent. It was a dangerous game to play. And she didn't like it.

"For now, I cannot let you contact the UNSC.", the Illusive man continued. "We can't take that risk. I will however inform them of your whereabouts and situation. But the Council must not know that the UNSC still exists."

That was the turning point. The moment Shepard would know the amount of trust she was granted thanks to the 'Holy holy oxen free'. And how secure the code phrase was. Everyone would get suspicious and quit instantly after what the Illusive Man said.

'Yes I know them and work with them, but no you can't contact them and verify what I'm saying.'

Except if one element gave complete and blind trust in the man's words.

"I understand."

The phrase was simple, short and direct. In a way, it held so much more meaning and weight.

"For the Council, Cerberus is a pro-human para-military group of extremists. We actually are the shield that protect humanity. Shepard is the sword that strikes down the enemies of Earth. And I am the eye of the UNSC. We have humanity's best interests at heart. As she already have explained to you, Shepard's mission is vital and of prime importance. Your assistance will be more than welcome and the UNSC will agree with me. In exchange, if you need help of any kind..."

To illustrate his open offer, the Illusive Man extended one hand.

"I need to retrieve my equipment. It contains sensitive information and materials."

"I'll let you give Shepard the necessary details about that and allocate any resources you might need. I have a well established networks and plenty of connections that will also help for the search.", answered the Illusive Man. "But it might take time, even I don't have the resources to scan the entire galaxy in short notice."

 **MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH**

The holographic projectors switched off and the lights came back on, slowly as not to blind the eyes that were now used to darkness.

Shepard turned to 1-1-7, her expression serious. For all she resented the Illusive Man for being secretive and manipulative, she had to admit that he was good at it. She was rather confident that after the short meeting, 1-1-7 would agree to join the team and help her and her mission. The importance of the mission and that it was in humanity's best interests has been explained to him twice. The Illusive Man further added the UNSC's weight. And of course, the 'Holy holy oxen free'.

"What is your decision?", Shepard asked, nonetheless. She had to know and be sure.

"I accept to help you."

Shepard nodded, glad.

The answer had been quick and sounded decisive. All the better in Shepard's eyes.

"You already know how I run this ship and the crew.", she said, keeping her rigid and serious attitude. "From now on, you don't speak a word about any subjects related to the UNSC to anyone but me and the Illusive Man. If you have any questions or doubt, you first come to me. Understood?"

"Understood, ma'am."

'Ma'am'. 1-1-7 didn't talk much, but when he did, his words weighted consequently a lot more. In a single word, his respect of authority was confirmed. And he affirmed that he accepted Shepard as his commanding officer.

"You also noticed that the team consist of several non-humans. And I saw how you were looking at them. Will you have any problem working alongside aliens under my command?"

Thereza formulated the question in a precise way. She didn't want him to be friendly with the aliens. She wanted him to shoot or run in the same direction as the whole team, without hesitation. And if she ordered him to help Garrus, she wanted him to do it correctly.

There was a short silence. Very short, barely an instant. But it didn't slide past Shepard's attention.

"No, ma'am"

He was clearly reluctant and even if he accepted, he wouldn't do it cheerfully. But that's all Shepard needed.

"Glad to hear. Also, I respect you keeping your secrets to yourself. But the mission come first. I will not tolerate you keeping information that are vital to the mission from me."

1-1-7 nodded. He didn't look bothered by that, nor understanding. But he still accepted Shepard's instructions. And by the militaristic rigor he displayed until now, he would follow direct orders to the letter. Hopefully.

"You will send me a complete description of your equipment and any relevant information on it so I can start the investigations and researches."

"Yes ma'am"

She motions toward the door, turning the hologram green and clicked her communicator.

"Jacob, you may come in."

Almost instantly, the door opened and the Cerberus operative walked in.

"Jacob will help you find a place to settle in. Welcome aboard, 1-1-7."

Shepard punctuated her sentence by a strict salute. 1-1-7 straightened himself a bit more and answered by the same kind of salute. The two soldiers stared in each other eyes for a second. Thereza was rather good at judging people quickly. Otherwise, she wouldn't have accepted Liara, Tali, Garrus and Wrex when she was chasing Saren. Particularly not the last one. The man in front of her, she knew she could trust him to fight against humanity's enemies -to the bitter end if needed- and be efficient doing it. However, she couldn't shrug off a strange, uneasy feeling in her stomach.

She was doing what was best for her mission, for humanity and for the galaxy. So why was she feeling like she was doing a mistake?

Not letting her thoughts appear, staying serious, Shepard lowered her hand. Only then, 1-1-7 dropped his, before turning and following Jacob out of the QEC.

 **MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH**

The Man pulled a long drag on his cigarette, light gray smoke rising and soon dissipating in the air. Around him, the screens switched off, the only light remaining was the one from the large screen behind him. And the warm orange glow of the tip of his cigarette. He let out a slow, controlled breath, allowing his eyes to wander across the ever drifting shapes in the smoke. But they soon disappeared too.

In a single motion, he stabbed the remain of his cigarette in the ashtray.

Closing his eyes and placing his hands flat on the armrests, he took a deep, controlled breath. Anger served little purpose. Clouding judgment, hastening actions that should be reflected upon. Only little men allowed themselves to be driven by anger. And he was anything but little.

With a single motion of his finger, the chair spun around, facing the display of the star. When he opened his eyes once again, he was focused and several screens appeared, displaying all sort of data. His plan hadn't failed. The results just hadn't been what he had been hoping for. But they weren't unexpected.

He hadn't been dealt the hand he wished for, but that didn't mean he wouldn't win with the cards he now had. And after all, he still had a few up his sleeve.

Plans and decisions formed in his mind and were displayed just as fast on the screens. His ideas taking actual form in front of him. Elements appearing, moving and being assigned, isolated then re-assigned. Links were formed and drawn instantly, some staying and other vanishing almost as soon as they appeared. For anyone else, it would look like the random and ever changing chaotic pattern drawn in a lake after a large stone fell on it. It was the Illusive Man's aim and purpose to harmonize this chaos to have perfect circles.

He would make this work, he had to. Humanity as a whole was at stake.

Moments later, he took a short pause, his eyes unmoving and still staring at the star. A small content smile took place on his lips.

With a motion of his hand, he wiped away all the holoscreens containing sensitive information and his smile disappeared at the same time. Things were in motions. He had all the cards he needed, but he would have to play them very carefully. One misstep and all might crumble.

He finally pressed on the blinking green button on his armrest, unlocking the door. And sure enough, less than an instant later, the door swished open and someone entered. The Illusive Man heard one set of footsteps. Long, regular and fast. They missed the heavy sound of an armour or the sharp one of heels. Soon, they stopped on his left. A decisive stop, without hesitation or nervous shuffling. Both feet were rooted on the ground close to each other and wouldn't move until she had to go. She wasn't fully facing him but her eyes were set on the side of his head. The Illusive Man didn't even need to look at her to be sure of that.

"Your actions and decisions were rushed. We woke you up to help us study, analyze and assess the situation. Not to intervene.", the Illusive Man scolded with a stern voice.

"I had to act, sir. Quickly." the tall woman countered. "If it was really him, no matter what, Shepard wouldn't have been able to stand up to him without getting seriously hurt."

'Don't talk without knowing, girl', The Illusive Man admonished, but only in his mind.

A screen appeared on the man's right and he began to type into it with a single hand, apparently decided not to answer.

"Was it him, sir?"

Good, at least, she didn't make him wait too long before asking the actual question.

"No it wasn't." He simply answered.

With a final tap on the screen, he made a long report appear over the star. The woman didn't move, she just spun her head and began to read it.

"Dr Chalkwas ran a full medical examination on him. Scans, samplings, the whole ordeal.", the Illusive Man said before summarizing the report in a few words. "Continuity of Project ORION. From the data, he looks more an enhanced Spartan I than a II."

It wasn't completely accurate as the specimens from the Project ORION weren't really called 'Spartan'. But this small shortcut carried his point across efficiently.

An other tap and the woman's omni-tool came to life and blinked.

"I sent you the complete report for a second opinion. It doesn't have high priority but I want your feedback as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir. But how is it possible?"

Confusion and surprise. They could clearly be heard in the woman's voice and words. But the Illusive Man was able to hear something else, something he'd have to be careful with. A hint of disappointment and sorrow.

"That's what I want you to help investigate. Now that you're awake, we can put you into good use. A small team will depart for the Purgatory in sixty minutes. They will mine and gather information while you will swipe and clean the place. Briefing in thirty minutes."

"Yes sir." Her voice was determined again and without having to be told to, she spun around and proceeded to leave.

That was good. Raised as a soldier, trained to be the best. She had been smart enough not to say more than the coded phrase in case it wasn't S-1-1-7 on the other side. And she was focused enough not to let a small letdown undermine her determination and purpose.

The Illusive Man smiled to himself and relaxed in his chair before taking a sip from his glass.

This would work.

 **MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH**

Shepard kept her eyes on 1-1-7's back until he was gone. Only then, she turned around and walked to the other end of the table, were her glass remained. The QEC was already back in its meeting room's configuration with the table up and her chair. She heard footsteps entering the room before the door closed. And she knew who they belonged to.

"What is it, Garrus?" She asked with a light voice.

She picked her glass and turned around, taking a long sip. Garrus was indeed at the other end of the table, standing a bit stiffer than he was used to.

"I think I have your gun." He said also with a light voice that held a little apologetic tone.

With a swift motion, he pulled the said gun from it's magnetic holster.

Thereza blinked a few times quickly.

Her hand was already on the gun at her side.

"And I have yours." She said, holding out her hand.

Garrus understood immediately and stepped around the table, walking toward the Commander as she stayed immobile. He presented it, handle first and holding it by the canon. Without hesitation nor haste, Shepard took it and examined it. Clean, the ammunition block was new. As soon as she grabbed it, the gun automatically and seamlessly synced with with her omni-tool. She placed it on her leg holster. She presented Garrus' gun to his rightful owner, the same way the Turian did a few moments ago.

However as he grabbed it, Thereza didn't let go.

"Don't lose it again, understood?", he tone was serious and scolding, just like the expression on her face.

"Yes, commander."

"Is there something else you wanted?", she further asked, eventually letting go.

"No, commander"

Shepard simply nodded once again and turned to pour herself an other glass of water. She was feeling a headache growing at the base of her neck. As she sipped some water, enjoying its simple freshness as it eased to ache a little bit, she pressed a few keys on the holo-keyboard. The lights started to dim down.

"Garrus.", Shepard called as the Turian was about to open the door. "What do you think of 1-1-7?"

The question was short and direct, asked with a serious tone.

Garrus turned slowly and thought for a moment, carefully. Shepard waited patiently, downing a bit more water. She knew these kind of questions were sensitive, as she didn't want her soldiers to start doubting their squadmates. Asking such questions nearly always meant that there was something to think about the person concerned. And that something was rarely good and never insignificant. However, she knew that, even if he didn't show it, Garrus would still be at least wary of someone who literally stabbed him in the back. And she also needed a second opinion about 1-1-7. Someone that wasn't biased by knowing about he UNSC and its implication.

"Like I said, 'he's good'. I mean, he went through the whole burning Purgatory without armour and a homemade knife. Even we, we weren't able to stop him. Imagine the damages he'll do against the Collectors."

That was right, for sure. And with proper equipment, he would only get more effective. Shepard could only picture a single situation were he would be at disadvantage; one requiring subtlety and negations.

"Fitting him in a squad might be a tiny bit difficult. Not the most talkative and open. And he seems to dislike non-humans. But nothing impossible for a leader like you!"

Also true. She couldn't really say about her current growing squad, but she already had experienced such difficulties while chasing Saren. A closed, unfriendly squad-member. And also one whose physical capacities threatened to unbalance the whole squad. Wrex. The Krogan could wrestle with a Geth Prime and come out victorious. Pass through a shower of bullet and ask for more. And on good days, taking a rocket to the face would maybe stun him, but certainly not down him. She still managed to fit him in and use him well.

All in all, for now, despite his still wounded back, Garrus seemed to have a positive opinion on 1-1-7.

"However… We know barely anything of him. Who he is, where he came from, why he was in prison. He could be dangerous. Not like Grunt or Jack. Yes, they are crazy in their own way, but they're here for a reason. One only wants a good fight, the other information. Him? What drives him? Don't take it wrong, I trust you when you say he'll follow us and help us. He'll fight with us and against the Collectors. But until when? If he has a good reason to do so now, will he suddenly have a good reason to fight us later? Compared to the Jack, Mordin, or even Grunt, we might not have enough information to judge him yet. My opinion? We must cheer and be happy to have him on our side. But we also must keep a close eye on him, just in case. We don't like surprises, do we?"

Of course. Shepard thought along the same lines, more or less. Knowing that 1-1-7 was from the UNSC nearly guaranteed that he would fight against the Collectors until the threat was terminated. Reason? That was his duty. However, Thereza could picture several reasons why he would turn on them. One of them would be receiving an order from the UNSC. Or an other coded phrase. Would that really be bad? It would depends on who sent it. The UNSC. Or whoever was working with or for The Illusive Man. Like so many times before, Thereza knew what she had to do. Trust, but not blindly and prepare for the worse.

"Thanks Garrus.", she answered with a neutral tone

"Anytime, commander. I knew you only needed to hear your own thoughts with a deeper, more Turian sounding and unquestionably sexier voice."

There was a short silence. Shepard kept her eyes on Garrus but raised an eyebrow. A small smirk grew on her lips.

He knew her too well. And his joke helped ease the tension in her shoulders. It also was a testament of the amount of trust the Turian had in her.

"Don't you have some... I don't know, calibrations to do?", she eventually asked, tilting her head.

"As a matter of fact, I can almost hear them calling for me.", he answered with a short laugh, his mandible spreading in a Turian smile.

By then, the room was only bathing in a cold, crepuscular light. Shepard could still perfectly see the Turian and she herself was bathed in the warm orange of the holo-screen in front of her. A very faint, deep red glow could already be seen in the depth of her pupils. However, it could easily appear as a play of the light to Garrus' eyes.

Shepard shook her head, still smirking, but unaffected by the Turian's laugh.

"Dismissed."

* * *

I hope you liked it!

Not much actions in this chapter, but a lot of discussion and character exposure and development.

I love the Mass Effect's game, but there was always something bugging me. Depending on how you play Shepard, she/he is a hardened soldier and is supposed to run the ship militarily. And except for some specific moments, this militaristic feel was a bit lacking to my opinion.

So, 1-1-7 agreed to join Shepard because apparently UNSC was backing her and Cerberus up. However there are still obvious tensions among the crew. Enough to give Shepard bad feelings.

The Illusive Man seems to be playing some dangerous games… can I say illusive games? Who is the woman that stands with him and what is is real connections to the UNSC? These answers will come later. But keep in mind that the Illusive Man's main weapon is 'information'. He's used to lie and to use truth and twist it.

In the next chapter, some of the crew might get to know 1-1-7 more, and Horizon!

Now the answers to the reviews.

Thank you everyone who made the effort to write down a review. And those who faved and followed the story!

Takei Daloui;

Exactly! And with the flood, the System Alliance also wanted to keep the weapons of galactic destruction a secret. The didn't want the wrong person to go look for the Halos. Also, concerning the Elites there weren't many left after most of them went to attack the Prophet on the Arc. And it was a lot more easier for the System Alliance to simply label all the Covenants as bad, and the citadel race as 'not as bad, or at least not wanting to glass us right away...'. And most human wouldn't have easily accepted an alliance with the Elite that commanded the assault and glassing of Reach. And with the one who decided to glass a part of the Earth.

Nova Saber;

You wouldn't have time to say that…

Joking apart, that was a good reaction. Sad that Shepard does not have the reference yet. And slight nit-picking, I think the rank is backward: Master Chief Petty Officer

'Armour' Guest;

We shall see! From what you already know, there was some time between the moment he got spaced and the moment he escaped from the Purgatory. In this time, a lot of things could have happened. Who knows where his armour went and what happened to it? Let's hope it's not still on the Purgatory. And more than his armour, Chief has 'something' else to get back.

HyperionATLAS;

I'm glad you enjoy the story! And I will do my best to keep the quality with hopefully a faster update rate. I understand what you mean by 'cliché'. I knew there would be some even before starting to write. Of course Chief and Shepard where meant to meet and join force. I knew it would not be the most original thing but I tried to bring in a few twists. The glassing of the Earth for example. And while the Chief personality is well known through the books and game, Shepard on the other hand is more 'free and open' to interpretation as the games are less linear.

JimmyTender;

And with on other long delay, an other update. I'll try to update more often, but it's quite harder that planned.

Anyway, thanks for the review, I'm glad you like it and I'll do my best to keep this quality. Concerning Shepard's knowledge and Chiefs reaction, I think this chapter was telling. Not much from Chief's end as most of what he would have said was classified. Most of Halo's campaign happened away from Earth. It's easy to hide. What happened on Earth were on part that was then glassed. There isn't many witnesses left. And any proofs can be labeled as 'fake' and forged evidence. Shepard does not know the 'truth' and Chief understood why it was kept secret. And he is not about to spill it out unless necessary. That's why Shepard came up with a fake and very short backstory for him. And as you saw, there's still a lot of hesitation and suspicion toward him from the crew.

Concerning his armour, we shall just wait and see. It can be almost anywhere and there is something else in it that is also quite important for him.

Priceless22

Thanks

Sithdoom

I'll try to update more often, but it's harder than planned.

High Admiral Thorin

For me, the fusion method is the most interesting as it makes two universes clash and try to live together in the same galaxy, with different mythology and story behind everything. But it's also quite challenging. Reapers, Flood, Protheans, Forerunner, Leviathans, Precusor. All living in the same galaxy makes it feel small. And both world play loose with physics in their own twisted ways. It's challenging but I'll try my best to keep the quality and coherence.

Negative review

First of all, I'm not against negative review. I actually would like to welcome them. To have constrictive criticism against my writing style and scenario.

'Terrible' Guest;

Your review started well. Bringing out valid interrogations and doubts. But it dropped, very quickly. I will first answer the review point by point.

-Concerning the Mass Effect and slip space. You are right. Mass effect affects mass and slip space is an other dimension. However, what about the slip space's portal? A large enough gravity well can prevent the opening of a slip space's portal. Or make it unstable enough that passing through it is a very bad idea. (Mentioned in the novel First Encounter). So gravity affects the formation of portal, and mass is directly linked to gravity. Why Shepard didn't explain it right away? She's a soldier, not a physicist.

-Protheans and Forerunners. I'm still waiting for those reasons… Mass relay affect mass and space, quite heavily. (A lot… a really big lot...) Forerunners were able to control space-time. They have incredibly advanced technology. But also… the Forerunner's Empire lasted for quite some time. Formed around 10'000'000 BCE, ended in 100'000 BCE. That's a 9'900'000 years Empire! In comparaison, the first proof of a writing systems here on Earth appeared around 5'000 years ago. The first stone tools were dated about 3'000'000 years ago. And when the Forerunner empire was formed, they were already far more advanced that what we are now… So sorry, I think it's quite possible that the Forerunner might have had more than the capacity to build Mass Relay. And if they don't look like 'normal Forerunner tech'… 9 million years is a lot a lot of things changed since then.

-Infinity. Yes. It was being built in the Oort cloud. So? First, the Infinity wouldn't be able to open a slip space portal due to the Mass Relay. Then if the UNSC managed to keep it secret, there's no way Shepard or the Chief might be aware of that. And if the System Alliance managed to get its hand on it, it would be kept secret. But why do you want the Infinity so badly?

-Onyx. Yes. And we all remember how Onxy was everyone worry and main concern the attack on Earth. And how Onyx's forces arrived to defend Earth from the covenants. And when the Flood landed, Chief first thought must have been for Kurt.

So no. Earth was alone and Onyx had her own problem. And after the Mass Relay was activated, communication with Onyx was cut. Sorry to disappoint.

-And lastly, Shepard and the Spartans. The final nail. Shepard knew about Spartans. She knew all along. Everyone knew all along. Even the Aliens of the citadel. They all knew about the Spartans and that they were used as propaganda.

 _"We even managed to make them think we had super-soldier, super-weapons, super ships. That worked quite well..."_

Super-soldier: Spartans

Super-weapons: Halo

Super ships…

Honestly, I don't know how I could have written it in a more obvious way except writing 'Spartan' instead of super-soldiers… Shepard knew about them, but think that they were being used as false propaganda. To motivate the troupes and scare the Covenants. (And I dare you to say to my face that something like that never happened… WWII anyone?)

So in brief, your review started alright, but went down and is now buried. And as epitaph; 'Terrible review'.

Now, I will ramble for a while trying to explain how I understood this review and understand how you feel.

-Mass Effect, SlipSpace, Forerunner etc. Forerunners are better in every way than the Protheans. Nothing that the first can do could be compared to what the second achieve. I won't say if I agree or not, but it's not a contest! I have a feeling that everytime Forerunner are mentioned in crossover, they positively absolutely have to be towering over every other species. And that kind of thoughts is a direct by-product of that kind of thinking.

And I have to say it. If you had given me a few plausible 'reasons' that would prove that Relay couldn't be Forerunner's technology, I would have admitted my error and accepted your reflection. Here, you just said there was 'reasons'…

-The Infinity.

First of all, it's an awesome name. And the Infinity is an awesome ship.

However…

First chapter, instead of the Normandy, it's the Infinity that dock on the Purgatory. Second chapter, Chief rejoin the army of Spartan IV in the ship and reunite with all the surviving Spartan II. Third chapter, the council laughs at how insignificant they think humanity is. Then there would be some fight, humanity would find Forerunner ships, then a whole flotilla of Forerunner, Ancient Human and Precursor ships to really show how weak Mass Effect's ships are in comparison. Particularly the Reaper and the Turian. Then the council would blame the Humans because they couldn't save whatever planet or ship to show that they (the cousil) are too full of themselves still. Humanity manages to control a StarRoad. 30 millisecond war against the Aliens. Humanity wins. Big surprise I guess?

You see my point? I will repeat myself. Even if I enjoy them, my story is not a curbstomp.

-Kurt

I wanted to say Onyx, but I'm pretty confident that saying Kurt is actually a lot more closer to the point.

Lots of people enjoy Kurt. I can understand that. However, he can't be in every fanfiction…

I know what the problem is. It comes from the reader-writer social contract. I offered you a story and in return you gave it some of your time by deciding to read it. Unfortunately, it didn't go as you would have wished. So it biases you and you assume it's a bad story. It makes you overlook elements and assume that elements you don't understand are a mistake.

* * *

I won't ramble anymore, it already took too much space.

As I said earlier, I gladly welcome all kind of reviews. They push me to keep writing and keep getting better. So don't be afraid of writing one. Even if it's a negative one. It can open a dialog. But just make sure there's real arguments, and that the review is not an incoherent expression of some sour disappointment mixed with misunderstanding.

I wish you all a merry Christmas and happy Holidays! See you soon for the next chapter.


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